Post by Aurora on Jul 7, 2006 14:23:49 GMT -5
In her life, Jeanne-Marie Beaubier had never slept under the stars. She’d never wanted to—because then she would have to be sleeping outside, where it was cold and animals or something equally frightening could attack her. She’d been grateful for her bed, for her blankets and her pillow.
But as Aurora lay there, on the roof of the small-city corner store, looking up at the blanket of endless stars that seemed to be just out of reach overhead…She was almost grateful for the opportunity fate had thrown her way to be able to see nature’s nighttime beauty. It almost made her come to peace with the fact that after an exhausting day of running and flying with little rest, that she was sleeping on a roof in a strange town on her way to an even stranger city. Well, it wasn’t really a fair compensation. But she could live with the rough shingles scratching her bare legs and arms as long as she stared at the stars.
The wind, however, was not so easy to deal with. Aurora chided herself for packing only one extra uniform when she’d left Madame DuPont’s—but then, she hadn’t been planning to stay away very long. If she’d known she’d be sleeping outside within a few days, she would have packed a pair of pants and a jacket. She’d balled up her extra shirt and skirt and was using them as a pillow, but unfortunately had nothing to use as a blanket.
She’d gotten a map from the shopping centre in Montreal, and then carefully made her way to the edge of the city—a task that took an hour at least. She’d been rushed and hassled until she’d stopped off at a library she passed, and upon mentioning her trip to a librarian, had been given the advice to check the internet for the distance and directions of the trip. She’d done so, and found that from Montreal to Baltimore was only nine hours by car. Which meant if she ran the whole way, she could probably get there within six hours.
After that, she’d relaxed considerably, and taken her time leaving the city. She’d taken a detour to see the Quays of the Old Port of Montréal, and seen from a distance Saint Joseph's Oratory of Mount Royal. She’d also strolled through Little Italy, and bought some Italian Ice, which she’d enjoyed as she’d perused the shops.
Once leaving Montreal, she decided it was time to start running. She could get almost there that night, and stop whenever she found a hostel. But in every town she stopped in to ask for the nearest hostel, she was met with either the confused stares of those who didn’t know where there was one (or perhaps even what a hostel was), or uncomfortable and pitying stares of those who saw her as a poor wayfaring young woman.
She stopped in a small New Jersey town when it started to get dark, beginning to worry about where to sleep. She did not want to sleep on the street, anywhere she was vulnerable to be attacked. It was only when she was admiring the intricate stone decorations around the roof of an old building that she got the idea. She could sleep on a roof. So she’d gone to a back alley and lifted herself for the first time in seven years into the air. She knew she still had the ability—things that magnificent didn’t just fade away. Then she’d found a rooftop that didn’t come to a peak in the middle, but rather slanted back down in the middle, creating a nook she could rest in to be sure she didn’t roll off of the roof in the middle of the night.
And there, after checking her phone for messages and turning it off to conserve the battery, she’d lied down and tried to sleep. As the sky grew darker, and more and more stars flickered into the skyscape, Aurora had been inspired to do a lot of thinking. She tried to remember all of her life, but in the end only managed to remember the days she already vaguely knew of—but putting them in clearer understanding made her feel accomplished. There were four days when she was thirteen…She’d been beaten, she vaguely recalled…And then had awaken in screaming pain in the infirmary of the Catholic school, her body broken and bruised. And yet…numb. She’d left that same night and spent three days in the city, confused and troubled and knowing nothing other than that she would never return to that wretched school.
And the next time she remembered was seven years afterwards—only a few days before he night spent on the roof—when she’d found herself at the school again. Of course she’d left immediately. And for the next day, she’d woven in and out of consciousness—but she hadn’t stopped. She had done some kind of sleep-walking during the times she wasn’t truly awake…Because each time she ‘woke up’, she was in a different place, usually in the middle of walking somewhere. She began to realize that during the times she wasn’t in control, she back-tracked the distance she’d made from the school, as if to return to her old life.
She knew enough of religion, somehow, to know that there was a truth to it all. At least, she hoped that there was, because it was comforting. That night on the roof, she said her first prayer, a prayer more heartfelt than anything Jeanne-Marie Beaubier had ever prayed for. A prayer that she wouldn’t disappear again and continue to be only a fragment of someone else’s life.
('As astrea per aspera' - 'To the stars through adversity')
But as Aurora lay there, on the roof of the small-city corner store, looking up at the blanket of endless stars that seemed to be just out of reach overhead…She was almost grateful for the opportunity fate had thrown her way to be able to see nature’s nighttime beauty. It almost made her come to peace with the fact that after an exhausting day of running and flying with little rest, that she was sleeping on a roof in a strange town on her way to an even stranger city. Well, it wasn’t really a fair compensation. But she could live with the rough shingles scratching her bare legs and arms as long as she stared at the stars.
The wind, however, was not so easy to deal with. Aurora chided herself for packing only one extra uniform when she’d left Madame DuPont’s—but then, she hadn’t been planning to stay away very long. If she’d known she’d be sleeping outside within a few days, she would have packed a pair of pants and a jacket. She’d balled up her extra shirt and skirt and was using them as a pillow, but unfortunately had nothing to use as a blanket.
She’d gotten a map from the shopping centre in Montreal, and then carefully made her way to the edge of the city—a task that took an hour at least. She’d been rushed and hassled until she’d stopped off at a library she passed, and upon mentioning her trip to a librarian, had been given the advice to check the internet for the distance and directions of the trip. She’d done so, and found that from Montreal to Baltimore was only nine hours by car. Which meant if she ran the whole way, she could probably get there within six hours.
After that, she’d relaxed considerably, and taken her time leaving the city. She’d taken a detour to see the Quays of the Old Port of Montréal, and seen from a distance Saint Joseph's Oratory of Mount Royal. She’d also strolled through Little Italy, and bought some Italian Ice, which she’d enjoyed as she’d perused the shops.
Once leaving Montreal, she decided it was time to start running. She could get almost there that night, and stop whenever she found a hostel. But in every town she stopped in to ask for the nearest hostel, she was met with either the confused stares of those who didn’t know where there was one (or perhaps even what a hostel was), or uncomfortable and pitying stares of those who saw her as a poor wayfaring young woman.
She stopped in a small New Jersey town when it started to get dark, beginning to worry about where to sleep. She did not want to sleep on the street, anywhere she was vulnerable to be attacked. It was only when she was admiring the intricate stone decorations around the roof of an old building that she got the idea. She could sleep on a roof. So she’d gone to a back alley and lifted herself for the first time in seven years into the air. She knew she still had the ability—things that magnificent didn’t just fade away. Then she’d found a rooftop that didn’t come to a peak in the middle, but rather slanted back down in the middle, creating a nook she could rest in to be sure she didn’t roll off of the roof in the middle of the night.
And there, after checking her phone for messages and turning it off to conserve the battery, she’d lied down and tried to sleep. As the sky grew darker, and more and more stars flickered into the skyscape, Aurora had been inspired to do a lot of thinking. She tried to remember all of her life, but in the end only managed to remember the days she already vaguely knew of—but putting them in clearer understanding made her feel accomplished. There were four days when she was thirteen…She’d been beaten, she vaguely recalled…And then had awaken in screaming pain in the infirmary of the Catholic school, her body broken and bruised. And yet…numb. She’d left that same night and spent three days in the city, confused and troubled and knowing nothing other than that she would never return to that wretched school.
And the next time she remembered was seven years afterwards—only a few days before he night spent on the roof—when she’d found herself at the school again. Of course she’d left immediately. And for the next day, she’d woven in and out of consciousness—but she hadn’t stopped. She had done some kind of sleep-walking during the times she wasn’t truly awake…Because each time she ‘woke up’, she was in a different place, usually in the middle of walking somewhere. She began to realize that during the times she wasn’t in control, she back-tracked the distance she’d made from the school, as if to return to her old life.
She knew enough of religion, somehow, to know that there was a truth to it all. At least, she hoped that there was, because it was comforting. That night on the roof, she said her first prayer, a prayer more heartfelt than anything Jeanne-Marie Beaubier had ever prayed for. A prayer that she wouldn’t disappear again and continue to be only a fragment of someone else’s life.
('As astrea per aspera' - 'To the stars through adversity')
