Counting Stars

xx0xx

"Tell me a story."

"Know I ain't no good at those."

"Please."

"You brush your teeth?"

"Uh huh."

"Say your prayers?"

"For Carl and everybody."

"Good. Boy needs all the prayers he can get."

"Why?"

"Thought you wanted a story."

"But…"

"You listenin' or not?"

"Okay, but…"

"There was a man…"

"Once upon a time?"

"This your story or mine?"

"Was the man a prince?"

"Naw. Just a man."

"What did he look like?"

"Don't matter."

"What was his name?"

"That don't matter neither."

"Everybody has a name."

"That right?"

"Uh huh. What was his?"

"You pick."

"But it's your story."

"Got me there, Kid."

"Hey!"

"What?"

"That's not my name."

"Wanna hear this story or not?"

"Can I name him?"

"Who?"

"The man."

"Fine."

"George."

"George?"

"George."

"Alright. George then. George lived alone."

"Once upon a time."

"You tellin' this story or me?"

"Once upon a time, there was a man. His name was George. He was very lonely."

"Yeah. Yeah, he was lonely alright. But not for long."

It's dark when he crosses the Georgia state line, even darker still when he turns on his street, just a few stars twinkling through the low-hanging clouds overhead and one of the neighbor's dogs barking in the distance.

"A puppy?!"

His old rust bucket's headlights…

"What's a rust bucket?"

"The truck the man was driving."

"Oh. Why's it called that?"

"'Cause it's old."

"Was the man old, too?"

"You gonna keep askin' questions or let me tell this story?"

Soon, the old rust bucket's headlights illuminate the mailbox at the end of his driveway, and he sighs. It's crammed full, the little door cracked open, some of its contents even spilling to the ground below, but he's tired. Too tired after a long day on the road to deal with a bunch of junk mail, so he decides to leave it for the morning.

"You tired?"

"Nope."

"Sure?"

"Uh huh. Did he get presents?"

"What?"

"In the mail?"

"You could say that. But he didn't notice them 'til in the morning."

"Why?"

"'Cause he was tired and he went to bed."

"His mama didn't make him take a bath first?"

"He didn't have no mama."

"Why not?"

"He was a grown-up."

"Grown-ups have mamas. They're called grandmas."

"Not all of 'em."

"What happened to his?"

"She died. When he was little. Even littler than you."

"Poor George."

"Naw. George was okay."

"But he was lonely."

"Not for long, remember?"

Tired or not, he's up with the sun, opening all of the windows to let the stale air out and staring into his empty cabinets. The inside of his fridge was off-limits. He'd already made that mistake the night before, and he wasn't going to make it again. There were monsters in there.

"Monsters? Is this a scary story? I don't like scary stories."

"You wanna go to sleep 'fore I get to the really scary stuff?"

"I'm not sleepy."

"You sure?"

"Uh huh."

"Alright then."

"Were they mean monsters?"

"The meanest kind."

"What kind?"

"Mold monsters."

"Yucky."

"Yeah."

"Can we skip to the good part?"

"The good part?"

"When he meets the princess."

"Never said there was one."

"There's always a princess. Even if there's not a prince."

"That right?"

"Yeah."

"What if I told you…"

"Uh huh?"

"In this story, there are two princesses."

"Two?"

"Two."

"What were their names?"

"Why don't you pick 'em?"

"Sophia."

"And?"

"You pick the other one."

"Alright."

"Well?"

"What?"

"What's the other princess's name?"

"We're not to that part of the story yet."

"But…"

"Find out soon enough."

"Meanie."

"Must not be too mean. Tellin' you this story, ain't I?"

"Yeah."

"Where were we?"

"Princess Sophia."

"Right. Yeah. The real story starts with a little girl lost in the woods."

I know it's kind of weird, lol, but I hope you'll stick with me. We'll get more of the actual story in the next few chapters.

Thanks for reading!

Feedback is love.