Stella, Stella...it haunted my dreams, the voice. “Stella!” it would call; “I’m coming!” I would shout. I had to see her. It had been weeks—months, maybe; I had lost count in the self-piteous mist of solitude. Stella, Stella...have to get to her, have to get there. I have to explain; never got the chance to before—spent my whole six-year sentence wishing I could.
They caught me for the third time, perhaps fourth, smuggling things by sea. I don’t know what—they talked about it constantly the days following my arrest, but I can’t remember, for six years of weariness has taken its toll on my memory. I did what I was told, that’s all—take this shipment to that place, that to this, it changed all the time. But it brought in money, and money was what I needed.
I knew it wasn’t right. Immoral, illegal, whatever you’d call it—I knew. But I didn’t know what else I could do. I had to support her; there was a depression, not a job in the whole country, it seemed, not for me. Maybe it’s the same way now, I don’t know—the first thing I did when they let me go was rent this boat and sail as fast as I could to reach her. They hadn’t let me speak to her in at least seven months, it has to have been that long. And all I got to say was ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’, and ‘goodbye.’ Two minutes. That was all.
I can’t help but wonder now, as I approach the shore-does she really need her father anymore? A criminal, a thief, a liar...what little girl needs that in her life? I’ll never forget the look of shock and disappointment in her face when they took me away six years ago; six years and two days tonight. I know nothing could ever be the same. Every night the voice screamed at me, and every night I would give the same reply, growing weaker, wearier each time. Even last night as I slept here in this rickety, run-down boat... “Stella!”; “I’m coming!”; more urgent that ever before.
Twilight sets now, but the shore is within wading distance...I don’t know if I can summon the courage to face her. She has no mother, and her father betrayed her—what reason has she to forgive me for that? She’s there in that house down the road—I can see it already. I’ll pull my boat in, but then what? Now that my sister-in-law takes care of her, will she let me in to see her? I have to try.
Docking here, the seventh moor of Stella Harbor—have to remember that. The North Star shines bright tonight, like my daughter’s eyes once did; long before dark, I can see it. I hope it’s a sign.

Author's Notes: This story doesn't really mean anything, it's just a story. The trick of it was that Stella was the place he had to go—not the person he went to see. I'm not all so sure what possessed me to have that the central idea, but I suppose it is. I don't think this is very good, but I'll leave that to your judgment. ^_^ I said I'd post this like three months ago, and I'm glad I finally got to. lol ^_^ You know where to find my e-mail address if you have any questions or additional comments; but don't forget the review box. *wink wink* lol j/k. Thanks for reading!! ~MJ

Date of Composition: June 11, 2003 (I think)