Amber hated her job.

She hated her manager, Zeke, who was nothing short of a sleaze, and the way he found every bloody excuse to touch her. They worked at an ice cream shop, for crying out loud! Why the hell did he keep insisting on wiping the cookie-and-fucking-cream mix off her chin? Why did he have to hover so close behind her, hands creeping towards her waist, as he showed her how to work the damned machines?

She hated the staff. For brushing her off when she spoke about it.

She hated her parents. For telling her she wouldn't be in this position if she had done a real degree in the first place, instead of having to scrape extra cash from a filthy ice-cream shop to do a second degree in business management.

She hated her friends. For telling her that she should follow her dreams and study archaeology, and simply watch as she wasted three whole years of her life.

And she hated herself.

For being so alone.

As she walked through the dirt road, the stars leaving traces of gold along the cracks and pioneering weeds beneath her, she turned her head over her shoulder. When she was certain she was the only beating heart, the only being of warm blood and flesh, the only pair of boots that hummed with the wind, she tore the apron from her waist.

"Fuck you, Zeke!"

She thought it would feel good. She thought the dust-laden banners along the nearby stores would rattle with her. She thought the birds on the trees lining the road would holler back. Only a little chain on some bicycle rang back – probably the wind.

So she did it louder. Fuelled it with every ember of hate she felt, let it burn and ache there in her throat as she screamed.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

...that is quite a lot of fucking...

Amber was silent in an instant, rooted to the ground.

Who had said that? Had it been Zeke? Had he followed her?

She turned over her shoulder again. Closed doors. Dirt. Trees. Clouds. Stars. Darkness.

But not a single other person.

"I'm losing my mind," she muttered to herself. "I'm losing it."

...happens to the best of us...

There it was again. That bemused voice. Barely a whisper. Caressing her ears with the wind.

She was sure of it. It was not her imagination. It was—

She spun around again. More closed doors. More dirt. More trees. More clouds. More stars. More darkness.

"And now, I'm talking to myself, too," she said, snorting. "I really am a looney."

...so was i, once upon a time...

It was everywhere, yet nowhere. Not coming for a single place, but circling around her. She couldn't see a face, but she could hear their smirk, that tantalising edge to their voice.

And yet...

"Okay, who the fuck are you?" she called out, lifting her hands in surrender. "It's rude to stalk people."

...then consider me rude...

This time, she worked it out.

Because the dirt didn't move. The trees didn't sway. The clouds hardly drifted.

But the stars—

...ah, but haven't you heard that staring is rude?...

As it spoke, the stars blinked. Right at her. Giggling with that whisper-soft voice as she stared and stared and stared.

"You... You talk?"

...we established this only a minute ago...

"You talk?"

...we established this once again only a second ago...

"The stars can fucking talk?"

...you really do enjoy repeating yourself, don't you?...

But Amber was no longer listening. She was stepping back slowly, shaking her head.

"I'm losing it," she snickered. "I'm..."

Then, she was running, plunging into the ominous darkness. Tree branches stretched out before her, like a cavern of distorted arms, the venomous fire spreading painfully down her throat and to her chest.

She ran until her legs felt like rubber. Ran until she was gasping for breath. Ran until she found her street, the pain ringing through her blood with each beat of her heart.

As for the stars?

They only watched.

...she'll come back...

Rattling keys. A door creaking open, before being slammed shut.

...they always do...

The nights after that, as she noisily dragged her way home from work, she ignored the voices.

...good evening, amber...

Ignored the stars.

...or perhaps, bad evening?...

The whatever.

...it really is quite rude to ignore someone...

This time, when she slammed the doors shut to her bedroom, she always made sure to close the windows, too.

One day, she decided to talk to it. Hoping that she would get it to shut up.

...good evening, amber...

"It was a bad evening."

...unfortunate. what happened?...

"You're a fucking pest, that's what."

...a pest?...

"Yeah, a pest. Like those bugs that get in the way and like, destroy everything."

...destroy is a rather dramatic word considering i have not touched you yet...

"Yet? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

...can you last more than five minutes without swearing?...

"Fuck that."

...touché. i presume that is your favourite word?...

"No."

...what is it then?...

"Lamfa. It's an acronym, actually."

...what could that possibly mean?...

"Leave-a-me-fucking-alone."

...i see...

She was already at the door, only a small stab of guilt in her heart as she glanced up at the stars. They were shining like brilliant pearls, cushioned in pure velvet darkness, their almost sugary light boring into her.

It was like they felt hurt. Like their gaze on her was pleading and lonely. Like they were using fucking puppy-dog eyes on her as she quickly opened her door and slipped through it.

But they were stars.

Nothing more.

"My favourite word is actually Ziggurat."

...ziggurat?...

"It's like a terraced structure that they used in ancient temples in Mesopotamia. I learnt it in my second year of archaeology."

...archaeology?...

"Yes."

...why would you study that?...

"Aren't you a little too... 'not-really-alive' to be this judgmental?"

...perhaps...

Amber snorted, kicking the very stones in her path as she trudged home.

"I loved it. The digging, the excitement we would feel in our last year, where we got an internship to help with an excavation. We spent weeks just searching for things. We didn't find anything exciting, of course, just a few bones but—"

...bones...

"Yes, bones. But, just listen. On our last day, I was watching the drills. We hit something really, really hard. And when we picked at it, it was this gorgeous slab of crystal. Everyone was so excited – there wasn't even anything in the crystal. But it was just so beautiful and, you know, different. And we all felt so hopeful and excited to just keep searching—"

...you got excited over a rock...

"It was huge! The size of my hand!"

...a moderate sized rock...

"Oh, shut up."

She was on her street now, the stars eyeing her as she held the handle of the door.

"It makes you hope," she said softly. "That there's so much more that we can't see beneath the ground. That there's so much left for us to find. For me to find."

Then, she moved into her house, closing the door gently behind her.

That night, she left the window open.

The next week, as Amber walked down the poorly-lit road, she watched at the bright stars above her. When she was sure there was no one else on the road or in the shadowy trees lining it, she sighed.

"Okay, what do you want?"

...a bit of company, that's all...

"Bullshit. You've been trying to tell me something. I know it. Why else would you be silent for twenty whole years of my life, and only speak now?"

...perhaps...

She watched as all the stars lit up brighter, igniting the night sky. They didn't move, no, but it was like they were dancing simply by blinking their lights to one another. Inks of brilliant colours – blue and pink and purple, blossoming above her, their soft glowing beams intertwining and splitting and twisting until—

They had made an arrow. They were pointing.

At first, Amber remained there, frozen.

First, the stars starting talking to her.

Then, she started talking back.

And now this?

She would be insane to follow it.

Right?

Right?

She didn't know what trance she was caught in as she took the first few steps towards the stars. She felt cold all over as she took another step, then another – a type of coldness that reached into her bones, that left her heart wide open to the icy wind.

Still, she kept moving, the sky a rolling blanket of glimmering stars against clouds the colour of wet ash.

Keeping her eyes trained on the lights. The arrow. Telling herself it wasn't a flickering daydream, but as real as the night around her.

She didn't know what stopped her. It was just a little pull on her stomach, a little jolt through her blood that made her pause.

"What do you want?" she asked again.

...a little company, that's all...

There was something about the voice that made her close her eyes.

It was so friendly. So kind. The only thing that really made her smile these days.

But following a bunch of stars?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I can't."

And she ran straight back home.

Each night after that, she followed the stars.

It was the same every single damned night. She'd walk for a bit, each stride making her mind more clear and resolute, ignoring the growing chasm of unease in her gut. Then, after going a few paces more than the night before, something would catch in her throat and she would turn on her heels. Run back to her little room.

The stars never despaired, though. They knew she would come back.

...they always do...

She didn't ever reach wherever the arrow was telling her to go – not even a month after slowly inching her way closer and closer to it. She planned on keeping it that way; there was something horribly unsettling about finding whatever it is they wanted to show her, only for it to end just like that. If she at least stalled it, drew it out, then the stars would keep talking to her – keep her smiling and snorting and talking about freaking rocks all night.

That all changed the day she quit her job.

...why are you crying?...

"I don't want to talk about it."

...what happened?...

"I don't want to fucking talk about it."

Because she really didn't. She didn't even want to think about it. The way Zeke – fucking Zeke – had yanked her onto his lap in his little room when she had gone to ask for a night off, the way she had felt the heat of his breath on her neck, the way his hands had trailed up her leg until her skirt was ridden right up her thigh—

She hadn't been able to face him. To face anyone.

She had just torn off her apron and left.

...you seem very upset...

"Shut up and just take me there."

...amber...

"Just show me the motherfucking place already!"

Silence.

Then, a long, collective sigh.

...as you wish...

She didn't walk when the lights danced and twisted and made their shape. She ran – no fear in her heart, just the need to escape, escape, escape. She liked the way it felt like someone was crushing her heart, the way her lungs screamed in agony.

The pain felt good. Familiar, yet different. And the stars were shining brighter, full of childish excitement as she got nearer and nearer—

And froze as she nearly tumbled off a cliff.

She had no breath left to scream, no energy left to turn back and dart home.

She just stood there, at the edge of a tower of grey rock, shaking as she sank to her knees. Watching where the rugged line of blue waves met the sky, her eyes trailing down to where she would have gone plunging down, where sharp slabs of stone stuck out – bejewelled by barnacle crowns, but looking as black as death as waves slapped against them.

Her knees burned against the ground as she knelt there.

"You're sick for bringing me here."

...you brought yourself here...

"You brought me here!"

...you walked here on your own...

A long breath in. A long breath out.

"Why?"

...you brought yourself...

"I said fucking why?"

A short beat. The salty wind hissing against her face.

...a bit of company, that's all...

She shook her head, laughing bitterly.

"Fuck you, and fuck being your company," she snarled. "Do you drag people here? Talk to them and bring them here to jump off?"

...they bring themselves...

"You're fucking sick."

Then, she was on her feet, storming back home.

Ignoring the voices.

The stars.

The whatever.

All night, even with her window slammed shut, it whispered to her. Somehow, its voice just kept creeping through any little gap in the wooden boards, kept slipping through the window panes and stirring around her.

...amber...

She wouldn't say anything.

...you seem upset...

Not a single damned word.

...it is rude to ignore...

Nothing.

...good evening, amber...

A slam of a cupboard.

...bad evening, i suppose?...

A muffled sob.

...you'll come back...

"Fuck you."

...they always do...

She didn't run this time.

She walked. Calmly and slowly, each stride in time with her heart.

The stars were showing her the way; she could see those sequins dangling in the night sky. She could feel them humming with excitement.

They had finally shut up – they always shut up when she walked towards the cliff. It was the reason she went there; even with the cool air whipping over the waves, the salt of the ocean in her mouth, the lumps of pebbles beneath her bare feet, it was exactly what she needed. The feel and taste of peace.

And the closer she got to the edge, the more silent it got. The more warm and gentle and kind they got.

Until she heard the sob.

It was from another girl, already sitting on the edge, her legs dangling there. A simple push away from peace.

And as Amber saw those fingers curl inwards, saw the girl bend her wrists, she found her voice.

"Don't you dare fucking do that."

It was an order. A threat. The worst possible way she could have said anything.

But the girl still turned her head, her face all puffy and raw and red. Her lips chapped, her eyes watery. Looking completely and utterly shattered.

"The stars," Amber continued. "Don't listen to them. Don't."

The girl said nothing. She just turned back to the ocean.

And Amber was sure of it – she had lost her. She was gone. She was—

"You can hear them too?" the girl suddenly said softly. "The stars?"

Amber could feel the knot in her throat as she nodded. "They're pieces of shit."

"They're so lonely."

"They're not lonely," Amber shot back. "I promise."

The salty air crackled between them as Amber moved towards the girl.

"Hold my hand," she told the girl. "Hold my hand and come with me. Away from here."

"The stars will be angry."

"To hell with the stars. They're literally just rocks in the fucking sky. Who gives a shit about rocks? I left archaeology for a reason."

That made the girl smile. "Archaeology?"

"Rocks. Bones. Whatever. I can tell you all about it."

"That would be... nice."

"It'd be a lot nicer if you weren't at the edge of a cliff." Amber held her hand out again, kneeling close to the girl. "Let's get out of here. Please."

"But the stars..."

"Please."

She watched as the girl closed her eyes. Turned back to the sea. Sighed.

Amber had once thought that finding a slab of crystal in the ground had been the best feeling in the world.

But nothing could beat that feeling in her heart – that feeling of warmth, of hope – as the girl clasped her hand.

And together, hand in hand, they walked away from the cliff.

Every night, they came.

...don't ignore us...

And though she knew they were speaking, she couldn't hear the voices.

...amber...

The stars.

...amber?...

The whatever.

Word Count: 2714. No clue if it's a Crystal or a crow!

Whew! I wrote this in only a few hours. Special thanks to avadel for the prompt and for hosting the short story competition! I'm super excited to take part in it, even if this idea jumped at me only hours before the deadline.

You should definitely check out their competition and their stories! They're insanely talented.