A Thousand Years of Night

The night stretches on for a millennium. I know I’m exaggerating, but tonight feels especially long. I have to keep my eyes open in case I spot my murderer. I remember the night I was murdered perfectly, as if it happened yesterday even though it was more than a decade ago.

I float past The Great Lake, my white silk dress billowing in the October wind. My mind wanders off as I let myself go back to the night my life ended.

“Arabella, come downstairs!” My mother shouts from the kitchen. I roll my eyes and stack my papers into a neat folder, quickly clearing my desk. “Arabella!” My mother calls again, and I flinch at the harshness in her tone. “Coming!” I shout back, keeping my voice neutral even though I have to raise it to be heard. Sometimes I wish I could be heard without them knowing I was here; I wish my voice could be heard without my family ridiculing me. I quickly lift my skirt as I rush down the stairs, making sure I don’t trip in my heels. “Yes, Mother?”

“Oh good, you’re here. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, gripping my skirt. “I had a lot of homework, but I got it done,” I add, hoping she will smile, or at least acknowledge a small accomplishment.

“Go down to the market and get five carrots, three tomatoes, and one stick of celery.”

I stare at her for some time before saying, “But tonight’s Halloween…I thought I would be able to go to a party for the evening.”

My mother finally turns to look at me and glares at me so hard I think her eyes might be knives ready to slice me open, inside out. “Supporting your family is less important than going to a party?” There it is: the guilt-tripping, the iciness in her tone that says she’s had enough of this conversation. “Fine, you’re right, I’ll go out now,” I say quietly, not meeting her gaze. “Good, I’m glad you have your priorities straight, Arabella.”

I wait until she turns around, opens the front door, and shuts it firmly.

I exhale quietly and begin walking through the neighborhood. Rows of white-picket-fenced houses line the street, with matching mailboxes and the same number of windows—eight, to be exact. I walk past the Smiths’ house and wave politely to Mrs. Smith’s husband, who's repairing the window they just broke. Their sons broke it playing baseball after curfew.

If I did that, I don’t think I would be walking past their house right now, because my mother would’ve beaten me to death for ruining her “perfect” image.

I finally reach the market and head to each station, grabbing the amount of vegetables my mother needs. Once I finish her tasks, I walk over to my favorite station, which has intricate miniature figurines. They range from furniture to food to people. As I inspect them, I look up and notice a boy about seventeen staring at me.

I blush softly and tuck a strand of black hair behind my ear. “So why arent you at a party tonight?” The boy asks me, and I startle at the sound of his voice. I look up and finally notice how handsome he is. He has straight, midnight-black hair that looks exceptionally soft and emerald-green eyes. His skin is tanner than mine. His lips curve into a smirk as we both realize how long I’ve been staring instead of answering his question. “Oh, shit sorry, what did you ask?”

He chuckles, and I think I might die of embarrassment right there. My cheeks flame up, turning crimson. “I asked why you aren’t at a party tonight.”

“Ah, yes, I see. My mother won’t let me go out tonight.”

“You’re out right now.”

No–I meant she won’t let me go out to a party.” This is the most humiliating conversation I’ve ever had.

He nods, then turns to another customer. I keep looking at the designs, and my heart stops when I see a miniature dragon, a replica from one of my favorite novels. I gasp softly and immediately rummage through my skirt pockets for my wallet. When I realize I spent it all on the groceries, my smile drops. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, huffing out a sigh. I turn to leave when the boy calls out to me, “Hey, if you want that dragon, you can have it. I doubt someone’s goanna buy it before my dad closes down for tonight.”

I turn back to find him practically leaning over the table with the dragon in his hand. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, consider it free.” I smile up at him and begin walking back. “Thank you so much, you don’t know how much this means to me…”

“Kai, sorry I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Well, thank you again, Kai.” I pause a second before saying, “I’m Arabella; people call me Ara for short.”

He smiles thoughtfully. “It’s really nice meeting you, Ara.”

I take the dragon from his hands, our fingers brushing for more than a couple of seconds. Something nervous, electric jolts between us, and I look away quickly, clutching the figurine to my chest.

“I should get these home before my mom starts worrying,” I say, forcing a small smile. We linger for a heartbeat longer, eyes locked in a silent exchange that promises more than either of us can say.

“See you around?” Kai asks softly.

“Yeah. I hope so,” I reply. The air hums with possibility, but I turn and walk away, feeling his gaze on me all the way down the street.

At home, I drop the groceries on the kitchen counter, barely sparing a glance at my mother’s cold look. I set the little dragon carefully on my desk, heart still pounding. The house feels stifling, so I slip out again without a word, drawn toward the lake by a feeling I can’t name.

The Great Lake is silver under the moonlight, quiet but not empty. I sit down, letting the sand swallow me whole. I lean back and stare up as the stars twinkle like individual diamonds in the night sky. I hear footsteps approaching and immediately sit up, shaking the sand from my hair.

The last person I expected to see walks up to me. Kai. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here so late?” I ask, straining my neck to meet his gaze. Gosh, his eyes are so beautiful.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He quirks his brow at me, and I fight a smile. “I snuck out, couldn’t take the noise at home.”

He sits down next to me and lies back, gazing up at the sky. “I get that.” He says, turning his head to gaze at my face. I blush and lean back down. “So are you here because of the noise, or another reason?” I ask while moving closer to him, our hands barely touching. I can feel the heart radiating off of him with how close we are now. One change of position and our lips would touch. I shiver at the thought, smiling slightly.

“Did you even hear my answer?” He asks teasingly, and I close my eyes, horrified by what I’d thought. “Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” I say sheepishly. He laughs before saying, “I said I’m here because my parents were arguing again. They do that a lot.” His voice quiets on the last part, and my heart breaks a little for him.

“I’m sorry, Kai.”

“It’s not your fault; nothing to say sorry for, Ara.”

The next couple of hours blur by as we talk about anything and everything. He talks about his parents and their constant fighting, while I tell him I feel like I can never make my mother proud; no matter how much work I do, it’s never enough. We talk about our favorite novels and series, discuss school subjects, and talk about where we want our careers to be. Everything feels so easy when I talk to him.

At some point, the conversation slows, words drifting away like mist over the lake. Kai turns to me, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight and faraway streetlamps. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and his touch sends a ripple down my spine. My breath catches, and for a long moment, neither of us moves.

He studies my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "Ara," he whispers, voice low and rough with feeling. My name lingers in the air, heavy with longing. Time seems to suspend. Just the hush of water, the distant chorus of crickets, his eyes locked on mine.

Slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, he leans in. I can feel his breath, warm and sweet, mingling with mine. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. His lips touch mine, featherlight at first, barely more than a question.

I answer him by pressing closer, my hand rising instinctively to his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair. The kiss deepens, gentle but urgent, full of all the words we haven’t said. His other hand finds my waist, steadying me and drawing me closer still until no space remains between us.

The world falls away. Only the cool sand beneath us, the lake’s shimmer, and the heat of his mouth on mine remain. I taste hope and possibility, and something like freedom. When we finally part, it’s only by inches. Our foreheads rest together, both of us breathless and grinning, the future awake and trembling at our feet.

“Wow,” I say softly.

He grins up at me. I place my hand against his heart and feel it beating like a steady drum. His face then goes slack as horror crosses his eyes. “ARA!” He screams, and I look behind my back, but not quickly enough.

A blade drives through my heart, and I gasp in silence. Blood immediately pools in my mouth as I begin to choke on it. The person holding the knife runs off before Kai can chase after him.

I look at my chest as blood flows down it like a waterfall.

Kai is suddenly beside me, catching me as I crumple to the ground. He gathers me in his arms, his hands shaking, futilely trying to stop the bleeding. “Ara, stay with me! Please, you’re going to be okay,” he chokes out, voice trembling with panic and tears.

My vision is fading, the world growing distant. I want to answer him, to comfort him, but all I can do is look up at his face. He keeps whispering, “It’s going to be okay. I’m here, Ara. I won’t let go. Just hold on.”

I force a weak smile, my hand finding his—the pain ebbs, replaced by a strange warmth. I try to form words, but blood bubbles on my lips. Kai leans closer, tears streaming down his face, and presses my hand to his heart. “You're not alone," he says softly. “It’s okay. You can rest now.”

The world narrows to his voice and the feel of his arms. I let myself sink into that warmth, and as the darkness closes in, only peace remains.

My eyes sting with unshed tears as I keep floating past our spot on the sand where we kissed. I would kill to see him again, knowing he would never hold me, kiss me, or comfort me. I want to know he’s okay, that he’s happy, or maybe he found the person who makes his heart race. Maybe he found the person he once was for me. I hope he found his world, even if I lost mine.

The world is different now. At first, I find myself drawn back to the place where everything meant something—the beach. I glide above the moonlit sand, my form shimmering in the cool night air. The waves lap softly at the shore, just as they always did, and the breeze tugs at my hair, though I can’t feel it anymore. I drift past our old spot, the weathered log where we used to sit side by side, toes buried in the sand, sharing secrets and laughter beneath the endless sky.

Sometimes I sit for hours, watching the tide roll in and out, remembering how salt clung to our skin and sunlight danced in Kai’s eyes. I remember the warmth of his hand in mine, our laughter swept up by the wind and carried far out to sea. Now only the hush of the waves remains, and the echo of memories I can never touch.

But even the beach cannot hold me forever. My heart, or whatever ghostly thing remains, aches with a longing I cannot name. I drift from the shore, carried by some invisible current, through streets I barely recognize, past houses dressed for autumn and porches glowing with pumpkin lanterns.

It’s Halloween tonight—the air shimmers with the scent of leaves and distant bonfires. Children dart from porch to porch in bright costumes, their voices ringing out in the darkness. I glide unseen among them, a silent observer, longing for the warmth and chaos of being alive. Their laughter passes through me, both a comfort and a reminder of all I have lost.

I am searching. I don’t know how I know, but I do: Kai is near. My heart pulls me toward the old neighborhood, toward the house with the blue shutters and the crooked mailbox. The porch light is on, and laughter spills out into the night.

He is there. Older now, silver threads in his hair, deeper lines around his eyes, but still him. A pirate’s hat sits askew on his head, and he holds a bowl of candy out to a group of eager trick-or-treaters. They giggle as he pretends to guard the treasure, his voice warm and playful. At his side stands a woman with kind eyes and a soft laugh. She hands out treats, her arm brushing his, and they smile at each other effortlessly, familiar.

I reach out, longing to touch him, to let him know I’m here. My hand passes through his shoulder, nothing more than a chill he’ll never notice. I whisper his name, but the living world devours the sound before it reaches his ears.

He turns to his wife and presses a gentle kiss to her temple. She leans into him, and for a moment, they are a perfect portrait of happiness. A happiness I once shared, and that I hoped he would find again. They laugh together as the next wave of children rushes up the steps. Kai crouches, ruffling a small boy’s hair, slipping extra candy into his bag with a conspiratorial wink. The boy’s mother thanks him, and Kai’s wife rests her hand lightly on his back.

All I can do is watch. I am a ghost caught in the web of my own longing, tethered to a world that no longer belongs to me. The ache inside grows and grows, but with it comes something softer, a kind of peace. He is safe. He is loved. He is not alone.

I drift to the edge of the porch, watching as the night winds down. The children thin out, the laughter fades, and Kai and his wife turn off the porch light. She leans against him as they gather empty candy wrappers and close the door. Through the window, I see them dance slowly in the kitchen, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her waist, swaying to a melody only they can hear.

I press my palm against the glass, wishing, for the thousandth time, that I could join them, feel the warmth of his embrace, the certainty of love returned. But even in my sorrow, I know: this is as it should be. His world kept turning, even when mine stopped. Love did not die with me; it simply found another shape.

So I float a little while longer, watching the ordinary magic of their lives. I do not try to speak. I do not try to touch. I only watch, and remember, and let go.

And then, at last, there is only peace.