Title: The Star's Child II: Brownie
Author: Ty-rose
Written: Sep 1997

Summary: I *did* see my Star-Child again, three years later on that same shore.

Author's note: Hullo again-Ty-rose back. Not real satisfied w/ this one but nobody's perfect, right? Enjoy.

Many praises to be sung to A.A.Milne, providing a great verse and inspiration to part 2.


10 August, 1997

A few days have passed since my last writing, and I compose once again to correct an error in my last tale. I *did* see my Star-Child again, 3 years later on that same shore.

I was twelve that spring when we returned to the beach-house; it was just before Samantha was taken....

Mom and Dad had been fighting a little more violently than usual and needed to sort things out so my grandparents took us kids to the shore on a short holiday to give our parents some time to themselves.

We couldn't have been there more than a few nights when one morning I strayed from my family and took a short walk along the tree-line, and I stopped to gaze at the sea and contemplate the future of my parents when I heard a most familiar little laugh from above. Whipping around and craning my neck upwards, I saw only a tiny, snow-white foot dangling from the branches. My Star-Child had returned to me.

"In a corner of the bedroom is a great big curtain, Someone lives behind it but I don't know who; I think it is a Brownie, but I'm not quite certain. (Nanny isn't certain, too.)

I looked behind the curtain, but he went so quickly- Brownies never wait to say, 'How do you do?' They wriggle off at once because they're all so tickly. (Nanny says they're tickly, too.)"

In an instant the Star-Child dropped down and stood before me, gazing with the same sea-blue eyes I had oft dreamed about seeing again.

She was now 8, Samantha's age, but it appeared as if she hadn't changed at all, just grown a little taller, and not much at that. Her hair retained its flaming colour unlike Samantha's, whose baby-golden tresses had darkened to a deep black.

The Star-Child was clad in a long, baby-pink dress fastened just above the waist by a white organza ribbon. Her hair was pulled back in dual french braids, threaded together in the back and joined with a matching organza bow. Somewhere along the way she'd either purposely discarded or lost her shoes, and I could see that her pretty little toes had been laquered a pearly pink.

I stood in my white sailor's shirt and capri pants amazed once again at this child, who, to me, was the most beautiful little girl in all the world. "Do you remember me?" I whispered, afraid that if I spoke too loudly she'd disappear.

She nodded with a devilish grin on her face and I laughed merrily.

"You know what little girl?" I said, "You really did look like a brownie up there in that tree."

The Star-Girl cocked her head slightly and said, "You may call me that, then. I'm bigger now and I don't suppose I'd fancy being a Star-Girl anymore."

And so it was that she was named Brownie.

Her family was there only for the day; a cousin had married on the beach and Brownie was the flower girl in the ceremony. I stole her away from the confusion and along the beach we ran until she became tired and sat on a high rock away from the shore.

I waited for her, walking slowly at the water's edge, picking up an odd shell and bits of twine or other treasures the sea washed up. I found a particularly pretty little conch shell with a small chip out of its top, and, threading a bit of twine through it, I presented Brownie with a necklace to remember me by.

I turned round and placed it over her head as I asked, "Where did you come from Brownie?"

And, with the most enigmatic smile I've ever seen on a child, she replied, "Out of the everywhere, into here.....Race you!" And off she ran, me trailing behind.

It was a glorious day and as the afternoon became late we settled on a large pile of rocks, Brownie leaning her back into me and quicky dozing off. I remember kissing her cheek softly just before I fell into slumber myself...

It couldn't have been very long before I heard my sister saying "Boy, that was a good move Fox!" and Brownie was snatched from me by her father. As she was marched away I heard him lecturing her angrily on how much she'd worried her mother, ruined the dress, missed the wedding pictures, etc. And there I stood, waiting for her to turn and look at me one last time. She did, painfully, and I mouthed the words to her; "Remember me."

-FM

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