Sago Star: And the Secret Frequency of Love
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About this ebook
Festim Famelarti
About the Author Festim Famelarti was born in 1990 in the Republic of Kosovo. Being the youngest child of four siblings in the family, he enjoyed special love and treatment by all family members. As a smart child, he continuously achieved excellent results in school and was praised by schoolteachers. His passion for literature was seen at a very early age, just after learned the alphabet. He was astonished and adored the heroes of classic books. Most of his summer vacations were spent always reading books instead of enjoying outside games with other children. His talent, wish, and self-confidence that one day he can become a writer in order to influence the people to have one more reason to become better than they are inspired him that his own imagination and knowledge to interlace in a fascinating literary work. Festim now lives in the USA, where his dream is coming true. This is his first book for the children.
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Sago Star - Festim Famelarti
CHAPTER ONE
The Birth of a Star
image001.jpgO NCE UPON A time, on a night with a bright moon, a writer was looking outside his window, gazing at the stars, contemplating and questioning ideas that were coming with the breeze and leaving with the wind, and nothing really seemed interesting to stay.
Suddenly, a shooting star—like a giant fiery arrow—flew over an island and stole the shining show from the moon. For a few moments, the night became day. But nothing lasts forever,
thought the writer. The days themselves do not last forever.
So few people enjoyed the short-lived spectacle that the star had shone to all the people of the island. And then a child was born. And in the exact same time, an idea sparked in the mind of the writer, and he went back to his working table and picked up the feather and a papyrus paper and wrote down the title of the book that would live forever and inspire the whole world.
On the other side of the island, the father believed that when a star would fall from the sky, it wouldn’t actually fall. Stars come to earth at their own ordinary speed, but to humans, their speed is extraordinary, because people cannot travel faster than the fastest human speed—unless they ride horseback, of course. Therefore, when something is more or less than a human, humans call it outstanding, extraordinary, alien, weird, flawed, and so forth. And so the star came to earth to give spirit and fate to a newborn baby.
The mother thought her baby was given its spirit while she was carrying the baby in her womb, and the father thought the same; but when he spoke about stars falling to earth, he meant that when a star falls from the sky, a newborn baby comes to life, shining upon the island and bringing life and joy to the people who dare to open their eyes and look at the sky.
Now, does the star fall from the sky or not?
asked my grandson curiously, staring at me as though I was trying to fool him.
Well, let’s just be patient, and we will find out together at the end of the book whether the star fell from the sky or not,
I answered and kissed my grandson on the forehead. He smiled and nodded, and I continued the story.
The parents came up with a name for their son.
So they had a baby boy?
asked my granddaughter.
Yes, indeed, a boy,
I answered.
And right before I continued reading, my grandson asked another question. What was his name?
Star—they named him Sago Star.
His parents gave him two names?
asked my granddaughter.
Indeed.
And so the boy had two names but not even one last name; this was the first sign that the boy was special.
The mother named him Sago because Sago means wise,
and her greatest desire was that her son would be wise. The father named him Star because he knew that one day he would shine upon the people and bring life and joy to all, just as our star shines upon us and warms our planet every day.
Which is our star?
asked my granddaughter.
The sun is our star,
I replied.
So the sun is a star like all of the other stars out there flying in the night?
asked my grandson.
Yeah, it is. Indeed.
Later that night, the parents, as well as the entire island, fell asleep. Even the newborn baby stopped crying, and slowly and smoothly an unheard silence conquered the island.
In that silence, the writer was staring at that title for quite a long time now, smiling and giggling as though it were the best of the best ideas that had conquered his mind. But suddenly, a strong wind blew inside and pushed the papyrus paper out of the window, like the universe so badly wanted that paper in his vastness of space. The writer ran after it, but he couldn’t catch it, and the wind blew more and more, not leaving him a chance to even see where that papyrus paper was flying to. Therefore, the writer was forced to close the windows and let his ideas fly away.
The wind began to blow stronger and stronger, and the waves began to rise, and a loud, explosive noise came from beyond the ocean. Booooooooooooooooooommm! The waves rose up and swallowed the island, and in an instant, the island was destroyed.
People blamed the shooting star for the island’s destruction. They claimed that when the shooting star flew over the island, it crashed into the water and created the enormous waves. Well, people will talk. No one really knows what the cause of the ocean’s anger ever is.
In the morning, people began cleaning and working on bringing the island back to its feet.
Papa, how come, after the tsunami, the people went back to sleep and then only in the morning they woke up to clean and work? Wouldn’t it be better to start working right away and not wait until morning?
asked my grandson. He was wondering what had happened during the time between when the tsunami hit and when the sun came up.
This is a book, my son, and sometimes the author thinks that certain details are unnecessary. So he just likes to skip through. Some details are not so important, I guess.
This was a hasty answer to my grandson’s question.
Papa, I don’t think the author should skip the details, no matter what. What if he had skipped the few seconds of the shooting star? We wouldn’t have heard about the shining show, the big waves, and all of those conversations about the stars,
said my granddaughter.
I think you have a point,
I replied.
My granddaughter has a point, I thought, and I bowed my head and gazed at the book.
As the people were cleaning and working on the island, they found a boy wrapped in a soft blanket inside a basket. A papyrus paper sat on top of his blanket. They lifted up the papyrus and saw the words Sago Star
written on it. They did not know to whom the baby belonged, but they assumed that he was Hanna and Ned’s son, because Hanna was the only pregnant woman on the island at the time. They seemed nowhere to be found. They were lost. It was as though the ocean had taken them away—beyond the horizon, beyond the stars.
The writer came along through the crowd, pushing the people who were gathered around the baby.
What did the ocean bring to this peaceful island now?
shouted the writer at the crowd. And then he saw the baby in the basket. And standing over his head was Mr. Rikoteki, holding a papyrus paper. Written on it was Sago Star.
Hey, that’s my paper. Where did you get that?
asked the writer, forgetting about the unusual event that was happening in front of his face as he walked towards Mr. Rikoteki to take back his paper.
This was over the blanket where the baby is crying now,
said Mr. Rikoteki
Well, that’s none of my business,
said the writer. Now hand me the paper. That’s mine.
Mr. Rikoteki handed the paper to the writer, and the writer left, not even thinking of the baby or the people that were gathered around the baby. And this is the ugly truth about the writer, minding only his own mind.
The other ugly truth was that no one on the island wanted to raise the baby, so they decided to take the basket with the baby inside and set it in the water. They thought the ocean would take the basket into the deep.
It didn’t. Every time they set the basket in the water, it sailed back toward the island and stopped gently on the island’s shoreline.
The people, amazed with this phenomenon, came up with the idea that each house would take care of the baby boy for a week—since in the island, there was no orphanage. In doing so, the baby would not be a burden on anyone. They would take turns caring for the boy until he became strong enough to work and take care of himself. And you know, the people of the island—it’s not that they were bad or didn’t specifically like the strange baby boy in the basket. They simply didn’t have time for him. People in the island had very strict schedules. They did what they had to do according to their plan.