Night of the 3rd - Junkyard
The night sky had no stars, but it was just as beautiful lit up by the manmade lights below. I danced in the bright night sky, like a ballerina learning her first few movements. Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel an aurora draped across my shoulders, enveloping me in a silky warmth as I waved my arms and moved my feet.
There was no beat but my happiness. And there was no life in the area, unless you counted the ghosts that populated the junkyard that I danced above. I, too, was a ghost. And though none of us were alive, we were more lively than the living while also embracing the peace of the dead.
A fellow ghost wanted to teach me how to contort through small spaces. Though we were ghosts, we did not walk through walls. Instead, we could squeeze ourselves through impossibly small holes, like cats when they are determined to get into a box much too small for them.
I swam through the night sky to get to him. It felt more natural to breaststroke through the air than to walk. Once I reached him, we ran through the maze of steel scraps and misty pipes, squeezing ourselves through every hole in the crumbling plaster walls. I learned how to control my skull, if one could call it that when one is nothing but a soul, to shrink for the tiniest doorways before returning to normal size.
It was as if my limbs had discovered new ways to stretch. Such free movement and unlimited possibilities. A whole playground in an abandoned junkyard and a night sky that knew not gravity, a perfect place for a ragtag group of energetic yet peaceful souls.
