Stars Above and Snakes Below

Her little sister had brought it in that day, after her long walk around the village. Sabine glanced at the baby snake, trapped inside the wicker basket. Her little sister would likely keep it as one of her “pets,” then quickly grow bored with the small animal and throw it back onto the street.

Sabine rinsed the last of the dishes, glancing out the window. The sun had sunk below the horizon, making way for the dark and cloudy evening that was sure to follow.

Just before her little sister had been born, Sabine had witnessed the storms that clouded over their village. It had been years since she’d seen a single star, but Sabine still remembered them as they were: beautiful, bright constellations that shone like diamonds in the sky.

She wiped her hands on her apron and dragged her feet to her bedroom—then stopped, fixing her eyes on the basket.

The baby snake, curled into a ball on the floor, looked up at her with sad, lonely eyes.

Do snakes have families? Sabine wondered. Do they have little sisters? Does this snake have a home?

She reached toward the wicker basket, and the snake coiled itself tighter.

“It’s okay,” Sabine whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, she lifted the basket, careful to hold it steady as she made her way to the front door.

Sabine stepped outside, the long grass tickling her bare feet in the swirling nighttime breeze. Fireflies whistled past her ears, illuminating the darkened fields with gently golden light. Sabine tilted the basket and lowered it into the grass, watching the baby snake as it slithered away. She smiled as she raised her head to the nighttime sky.

Sabine gasped. A single star, twinkling brilliantly in the night, peeked out from behind the gloomy clouds.

Sabine roused her little sister awake, nudging her out the door.

And there the two girls lay all night in the grass, gazing up at the miracle that had dared to grace their dark night sky.