This Star Won't Go Out

“Aye, that works for me,” he replied, smiling.

“He heard the hogmaid’s mother, Carnilly, drop something she was holding, probably due to the fact that the king was in her doorway.

“Oh, ’ee deerie . . .” she mumbled, rushing around straightening things. “In ’ee door? Let the poor man in!”

The young mouse opened the door, rolling her eyes.

“Sire, come in, please,” said she, adding under her breath, “though watch out for the Marm, she will mayhaps try cleaning you . . .”

He hid a smile, and walked in. Docknel moved a pile of books from a chair, and set a quite flustered Mrs. Carnilly onto the seat.

The old woman smiled, two dimples showing in her rosy, fat, pink cheeks. She straightened her apron and issued her daughter over, motioning for Docknel to sit in chair behind him.

“Soire, oi is quoite certain you is wantin’ to see ’ee daughter about’ee riddle?”

He shuffled his large tail and smiled, embarrassed. “Aye, marm, but if she is not in a mood to talk about it, then please excuse me . . .”

“Nay, Soire,” Jennily said, grinning. “Oi is quoite honored to be visited in ’ee gurtly b’izzy schedule . . . Mayhap ’ee wants to look at ’ee riddle?”

The king nodded, glad she wanted to visit now, for he had a strange energy that was sure to go away by the next day.

Jennily took out a large book of poems and opened it to the middle, where a piece of parchment lay. She handed it to Docknel and he read it, twice. They sat silent for a while.

“Soire?” asked Jennily, awkward at breaking the silence. “Does ’ee unnerstann it?”

He sighed. “Parts, ma’am, though I think we should consult with some others in the open air. I mean, if you and your mother approve . . .”

They both ayed, and so Docknel, Jennily and Rolly the church mouse were off to the orchard.


Esther Earl

Lime Notebook


Winter 2007


MY HEART WAS POUNDING. My head throbbing, and my side seemed to be hurting more than usual. I stared at the X-ray as my stomach butterflies flew around and my eyes welled with tears. I was nervous. Anxious. Scared.

“But what does this mean?” my mom asked the X-ray guy, her disbelief obvious by her raised eyebrow expression.

“It means there is liquid in her lungs, so her lungs are not properly expanding. We’ll give a copy to you to take to your doctor, and he or she will tell you where to go from there.”

Questions engulfed my thoughts, but I was too shocked and embarrassed to say anything. Is it a lot of fluid? Is it serious? Ever seen it before? Who knows? I sure didn’t . . .

“Esther, he’s asking you something.” I snapped back to reality, focusing my available attention on the guy.

“Are you going to be able to walk to the doctor?”

I’ve lived with this stuff in my lungs for 3 months and he wants to know if I can walk a block away?

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered, my voice a bit unstable.

“Good. The secretary will give you the copy of the X-ray, and then you go give it to your doctor. Ok? Please take a seat in the waiting room.”

After pointing us where to go, we walked in and sat down. My mom thought her thoughts, and I thought mine.

Isn’t it amazing how you can think a sore rib to be a pulled muscle, when it turns out it’s actually liquid in the lungs? My parents thought that’s all it was, a sore muscle. Well, it’ll probably just be pneumonia or tuberculosis—hopefully not, though.

I could see my mom’s eyes glaze over . . . she was thinking of something. Probably about living situations. At the moment we were living on a street near Cours Mirabeau.


[Note: The story now continues with the fictional “Carly” as protagonist. It is a continuation of the previous story and was written at the same time. These events as Esther wrote them are true—they really happened to her—including her quirky rendering of the French accent.]


Carly’s parents walked back in the room; her dad’s face was serious and her mom’s face was blotchy, her eyes swollen. Just because she was crying doesn’t mean it’s bad news, she cried a lot, they might’ve been happy tears . . .

Doubts flew around, but somehow, sitting in her hospital bed with a tube coming out her side, she held onto a string of hope.

“Carly,” a male doctor walked into the room, sullen faced, followed by Dr. Janie, and an unknown female doctor.