Under a Falling Star
A Short Story
Fabian Black
EB00K EDITION
Copyright © Fabian Black 2010
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Published by Chastise-Books
Cover Art by Jade -
Under a Falling Star
Tay always tells people we met at Christmastime under a falling star. He has a romantic nature, and there’s no harm in that. I like his romantic nature. I suppose in essence we did indeed meet under a falling star at Christmastime, but it was not, as implied, a heavenly star streaking across a winter sky. It was a heavy ornament that sat atop a huge department store Christmas tree.
As well as being a romantic, Tay is as curious as a cat. He simply cannot resist investigating . The department store tree caught his attention as he wandered around choosing seasonal gifts. Was it or was it not a real tree? He decided it was real and attempted to snap off a needle in order to release and enjoy the clean spicy scent of pine resin.
Alas he was mistaken in his assumption. The tree was not real. It was a faux tree and his efforts to twist off a plastic needle unbalanced it from its holdings. It began to shiver and shake, tremble and flounder, shedding baubles, lights and tinsel and finally the glittering five-pointed star at its pinnacle. Shoppers scattered with squeals and shouts of alarm, but not Tay. He stood there frozen and wide-eyed as the star plummeted earthwards. I acted quickly, grabbing his arm and yanking him away before the meteorite could strike him. It struck the floor and exploded into fragments. The tree then felled itself, crashing to the ground.
Tay looked at me and then at the devastation he had wrought and took to his heels, dashing for the store exit. In his embarrassment he quite forgot about the unpaid for items clutched in his hands, a striped wool scarf and a Simpson’s key ring. As soon as he crossed the shop threshold the security tags set off the alarm and a security guard gave chase, mistaking him for a shoplifter.
He was caught and brought back to the shop protesting his innocence and trying to explain he hadn’t meant to steal the items. I stepped into the fray as a witness. The shop manager was a kind and sensible soul and accepted my account as well as Taylor’s apologies for touching what he should not have touched and accidentally wrecking the store’s Christmas centrepiece.
We left the store together, walking in silence. Once outside he turned to me and offered his thanks for saving him from injury and also for standing up for him, his cheeks flushing a little as he did so. I told him it was no problem, my pleasure. Suddenly for no apparent reason we both started laughing. We then introduced ourselves. He was Taylor, or Tay as he preferred and I was Julian. ‘Ju,’ he had inquired, eyebrows raised, ‘Jules?’ Just Julian I told him. He gave a cheeky grin, asking, ‘and are you, just I mean?’ I replied that indeed I was, as my actions had proven, I had defended him had I not.
On impulse I asked if he fancied a coffee to help him get over his fright. He said yes and I took him to my favourite café by the quayside. He asked what I did for a living and I confessed to being the curator of the town’s small museum. In turn I asked what he did and he said he was only an assistant in a care home, as if afraid I would deem it a lowly job. I certainly did not. It soon became clear that he genuinely cared about the people he worked with.
There was a bowl of what appeared to be tiny polished pebbles on the café table and I
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