The Dying Ghost Star

10th August 2015
By Becki Ashton

It dies, but it takes millions to disappear

it shines, glows, sparkles for the stars

a mesmerising blue flare filling deep space

shards of glittery fire balls arch over

and curve under the pink framed beauty

it fears not of it’s end, for it is just light

but light that illuminates the darkness

and shines through the galaxy

upon the years that have passed by

Hues of the nebula fizzle and burn

constellation Hydra holds its place

but only for now, as soon it will be gone

slowly fading, passing from this void

stellar wind swirls around and spits it out

choking on the star dust within

they won’t stay around forever

it will create a pathway, a gate, a window

to others who want to live for all of time

but they will fade, die, no longer exist


4th March 2015
By Becki Ashton

Click off. Pause. Didn’t click. Like it should. Click on. Pause. For half as long. Click off. It clicked the click I was waiting for but only on a Tuesday. It was Wednesday. It required a different click. Click on. Click off. No. This time the light flickered. Death. Click on. I sit up. Bed. Fire? Fire? Sniff. No fire. Eyes un-widen. Sleepy. I click off. That’s wrong. That’s a Monday click. Faint. Numb. One. Two. Three and click off. Friday click. I count. That’s only 5. 5 clicks. It should be 6. 6 clicks. Not 5. It should be 6. 6. 6. It’s Saturday now. Not in Australia it isn’t. Or is it. Is it? Click on. Click off. On. Off. On. Off. 8. I hate 8. 8 clicks. I hate it. Click on. Click on. Fried. Fried spider. Fried spider eggs, Zombie. A zombie. Two zombie. Dead zombies. Lost zombies. Dead. Jason. Jason. Axe. Jason with an axe. Eggs. Chewy. Chewy Rats. Chewing on chewy rats. Chewy rats tails. Click off. Click off. Click off. Click off. Off. Off. Off. Off. Off. Click off. No. Sleep. No sleep. Just off. Click off.