There is light.  Of course there is light. It is growing, steadily brighter.  Flickering, warm and friendly in front of the darkness threatening my gaze.  It throws shadows against the walls, the floor, the wreckage of what was once our home. A futile attempt to stave off the black.  My gaze is drawn in, trapped—a moth to the flames.  Blocking my vision from what lays around me.
Is there pain?  Agony.  There must be.  There is so much blood.  It runs down my body, pooling in a dark puddle, contrasting against the light carpet. There is a hand there.  Is it mine?  I don’t think so.  It doesn’t look like mine.  How can there be a hand?  Shock: a medical emergency in which the organs and tissues of the body are not receiving an adequate flow of blood.  I let my eyes follow the light again.  There is an arm connected to the hand, but I do not know whose.  I can’t.
There is more light now, but it is cold.  Shouldn’t it be warm?  An average house fire burns at a temperature of approximately 1,100 degrees Fahrenheit.  It is suffocating, this blanket of cold air which settles across me.  My breath rasps against my lungs, the air struggling to escape but freezing instantly inside my throat.  I feel so heavy.  Far too heavy to move.  I know I should be warm.  I wish I was warm.  Instead, I lose myself in the burning cold.
The air is frigid, gusting and swirling across the ground. It leaves a bright contrast—the pink of my cheeks against the perfectly white snowflakes floating gently from the sky.  I am huddled down, as close as I can be to the ground.  Hiding behind a hastily built fort—snow piled up over a fallen tree. I look at my best friend and silently count down.  As we reach zero, we charge forwards with a battle cry, snowballs in both hands.  My feet sink through the white powder, making my sprint reminiscent to a slow jog, but I still bring my arm back, releasing my first weapon.  It goes wide, hitting nothing as it arcs to the ground.  I wait to get closer for my second one… just a little further… and… Now!  I release the cold, white projectile.  A perfect shot this time, colliding just against my brother’s chest.  Yes! I leap in the air, triumphant.  And then I’m flying backwards into the powder, the weight of my brother pushing me down until we both lie there, laughing, in the snow.
I’m on my father’s shoulders, clutching his head as tightly as I can until he gently grabs my hands, engulfing my tiny fingers within his.  “We’re almost there.  Do you want to see?”  I don’t.  I have seen the Earth recede into the distance, my home vanish before my eyes.  I have seen the stars slowly pass behind us, beautiful yet terrifying.  A look into a world which leaves me insignificant, tiny.  Powerless.  And yet, I swallow my fear, as I hold tight to a diamond of hope.  Hope that maybe, amongst all this emptiness, we will find a home.  So I tell him that I do, and he walks over towards the viewing window.  Sets me on his lap and holds me tight.  And I am safe, and warm. And in that moment, I know that it doesn’t matter what our new home planet looks like.  Because my dad will always protect me.  Wherever we end up, it will be home.
I’m curled up on the couch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate resting in my hands.  My head rests back on my mom’s shoulder as my dog curls up between my feet.  We are watching television—science fiction, like always.  My favorites are the classics.  People have always reached for the stars.  We may walk among them now, but the dreams live on—they shine bright, an eternal beacon of hope. Curled up on the couch, perfectly content, I laugh as I watch the characters bicker.  But now everything is red: an emergency broadcast.  I grasp my mom’s hand.  Our proximity to our nearest neighbors has always been a cause for concern, with the First Interplanetary War taking place, but there has never been any threat to our home.  Before now.  My mom takes me in her arms, but I can feel her nerves in her tense body.  But she tells me that everything is going to be all right, and with the fire burning in our hearth and my dog on my lap, I believe her.
Human beings are fragile.  The evidence of this lays on the floor beside me, in the empty voices I can hear ringing in my head.  They are simply flesh, bones, muscle.  Easily crushed.  Shattered.  The ever-present light is losing the battle, giving in to the dark.  To the cold.  But… I grow no colder.  Warmth fills my chest, gently settling in wait.  Human beings are fragile, but love?  Hope?  They are powerful. Eternal.  And although the light is fading, I smile.  Because the stars… the stars are beautiful.