“Frisay? Are you out there?” James saw a misty creature stare back at him.
“Frisay?” It shrieked mockingly. “She is not here.” It pointed to what appeared to be a rip in the sky. It was as if the sky were a canvas that had been slashed with a knife.
The creature disappeared as James looked at the hole. Concentrate. Said a voice similar to Frisay’s. As he did what she told him, he evaporated, then materialized inside the rip.
He could see all of Conneticut from there. Come towards my voice. He heard. James walked to where the sound was loudest. Look up. “Oh, my goodness! You’re a star!” His eyes widened.
I cannot talk to you in this form. I can only communicate by thought.
“This is why you couldn’t tell me?” James asked.
My information regarding the Screechers was… limited. They want to destroy us, James. They want to take away what little light we stars give to the Night. You must help us.
“But, why me? I am no king or diplomat! I’m just some guy in a cubicle!”
You are James.