In its entirety, here’s Kylie Scott’s published short story. Enjoy!
Queen of the moonlight.
Princess of air.
The six-year-old version of me would love it. Soaring through the night with you, a fantasy, the stuff of legends.
But now I am older and you are still just a boy. A boy who doesn’t understand grownup things and who scorns the real world. My real world and your nightmare.
We float in the velvety blue of the sky, surrounded by stars and sea. You, caressed by the wind, resting on its back and defying all logic, make endearing little comments that are meant to persuade me.
“Young forever,” You whisper in my ear, soft as the starlight that glows around us. I wave my arms and try to catch up. Who wants to be bothered by horrid things that only adults care for? Things like taxes and divorce? Growing old and losing the chance to do whatever one wants, accepting fate and death as friends. No. Definitely not for me. We laugh and chase each other through the night, spinning and dancing, forgetful of all things and ready to bask in your world forever. You, gliding, flying through the air with minimal effort, a boy forever. And I follow, getting farther and farther behind because I’ve never done this before. Stop and go. Short bursts where I forget, where I am ready to pass up all opportunities and follow my whims. And times where I halt and think of what children cannot do.
If I continue after you I will never drive. They don’t have dances or makeup where you are from, do they? I couldn’t get married or fall in love, could I?
You’re just a boy of eleven.
And I must grow up.
Your face twists from elation to hatred and anger. You zoom away and never look back, disappointed with my choice and prone to tantrums, because you choose eternal youth.
Now I am stuck here, above the ocean, alone and done for.
The wind refuses to carry me. The sky no longer tries to help me and turns into a storm of grey clouds that roll in as fast as the tears down my face. I am sinking into the water beneath me. The disappearing stars glare down at me, wondering how my choice is worth more than you and bidding me goodbye because, in the grown up world, no one believes in you. Waves crash at my ankles and soon cover my mouth, my nose, and my eyes. I can’t stop it. And I sink into the foamy deep, pulled by an invisible anchor that has latched itself around my waist. Shouting, Peter! Peter! But all I get are lungs full of water.
Because when I grow up, no one will save me like you tried to. The world will be a place filled with contempt and malice.
So here’s my first taste of reality.