𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 | 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓼 |𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 {𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴}

𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓻. 𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓫.

𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓫 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓸𝓬𝓴'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥:
"Ye-heah! I've got the Techno String!" With the blue string held above my head, I bounce through the pearls dangling down from a doorframe, and jumps into the main room, inside our current ride. The small team of Hard Rock Trolls and I, has come off on the scheduled World tour with a great start. We've just been around the Techno's, their string now belonging to its rightful owner. We are currently heading to the Classical's.
"Who knew world domination could be so much fun?" I ramble about, one step slumping in front of the other as I make my way further into the room. A hand gets extended to me, with the palm facing upwards. And as it is expected of me, I slap my own against it, in a low high five. Turning to face ahead, my gaze lands upon an electric guitar, only one strings attached to it yet. My own. That guitar is the one responsible of all six strings, capable of playing six different music genres. With care, I attach the second String onto the instrument and with a cackle, the string changes from its blue colour into a reddish one, similar to my Rock String beside it. "Only four more Strings to go, until Rock unites the world." I chuckle, approaching my throne and slumps into it, leaning against the back of it to get comfortable. But realisation suddenly hits me, my eyes wandering around the small room. Someone who usually is present, is currently missing.
"Dad? Where's dad!" I yell, my voice echoing across the room. My body tensing, adjusting to sit upright with a straightened back. The sound of a toilet getting flushed catches everyone's attention, soon followed by the sound of the door unlocking, the gazes going to the bathroom door. And out he comes. The door slid open, revealing my dad - sat in his awesome wheelchair - on the other side as he rolls through the frame. "There you are dad! I've got the Techno String!" I can't help but brag about my doings to him as I jump around him, the benefit would be for me to gain his respect. "Cool. What's a String a-again?" He stammers, sounding like a lost puppy. Unfortunately, as he have gotten older, he have developed the curse of memory loss. He simply forgets several things and people easily, that's not for him to control.
"Don't you remember the plan?" "Plan? I don't remember... a plan." His gaze is now averted, glancing upon his fiddling fingers on the joystick, attached to the armrest on his wheeling chair. "Oh! Great idea, man. Okay guys, line up!" I spin around, clapping my hands and ordering my minions around, three of my crew members getting into their ordered positions. With backs turned, they point out the images printed onto their jean jackets. "Okay. We're on a world tour, and on each stop, we get a new String." My finger moves to point at the image on one of my member's jacket. "When I have all six Strings, I'll play the ultimate Power chord." I move to member number two, pointing out his image. "And I will unite the Trolls under one Music. Our music!" I punch the air, stretching my arms above my head with clenched fists. A loud cheering erupts through the crowd, several fists rising over their heads as they shout the word: "Rock!" in unison. Turning my head back to face my dad, my observation catches on to his wrist, struggling to mirror the action. "Oh! Here it comes!" With very slow moving improvement, he continues the struggling to raise it. Still waiting with high enthusiasm, I raise my shoulders in a shrug. "Just a little bit more.." Riff - being my drummer - pulls in a breath between his gritted teeth, encouraging his King to keep it going. "Riff. Just help him, man." I push my elbow into his ribs as he is within my reach. "Yes, your Rockness." Gaining back his composure, he strolls to my dad's side and with his pointer and thumbs, he Smurf kicks two of my dad's fingers up with his own. My dad, noticing he made it, he yells out: "Rock n' Roll!"
Bouncing onto my dad's wheelchair, I slide into his seat beside him, hugging into his side.
———
The rest of the team slowly starts to separate into smaller groups, continuing their day like every other. Pulling myself up from invading my dad's space, I walk forward. I'm not myself sure where I am walking off to, probably figuring it out on the way. Turning back, casting my eyes onto my dad, who is pushing the joystick forward, his chair wheeling off towards one of the decoration boards. Once he arrives in front of it, he uses his remaining strength to reach up for a photograph, which is of course pinned on at the very top. Unluckily, he isn't able to reach from his seat. To spare him the struggle, I run to his side and jumps up to snatch it off of the board. Before handing the photo, I scan my gaze upon it. I acknowledge one of the Trolls being my dad, the one standing beside is my mom - before her passing - and a baby in her fawn. Me.
But my dad was holding me too. There is two of me, but that is not me. The second baby doesn't have the same hair or skin colour. The photograph has once been ripped in half, a slit going through the middle of it. "Dad, who is this?" I turn the photo for him to see, my finger pointing out which Troll I am referring to. I've never put too much of my attention onto our family pictures, but someone has with a certain purpose ripped the paper, hiding the fact that there is a second Baby Troll on this one. The two parts is now held together with tape on the back, must have been recently since the tape seems new.
"Barbara, sit down." Dad suggests, referring for me to sit back into his lap. "The red-haired girl, she is your sister."
"How did I not know about this?" I ask with a racing heart, frustration bubbling beneath my skin. So, he is currently informing me about a sibling I never knew I had, several years after mom's passing. "Mom didn't get sick, all of a sudden. She didn't make it as your sister was coming into our world. And I haven't mentioned it since that day, because I've not only lost my wife, but also my daughter." He struggles to swallow the gathered saliva within his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing. "How did you loose her?" "One day, she was sleeping in her crib beside yours, and the next she was gone." His chin now downcast, he keeps his eyes averted from my curious ones, before his lips part with a click of his tongue. "Centuries have passed, but has she been among us all these years? I have no idea." Sensing the pain in his voice, his eyes staying absent, I decide to lighten the thick tension. "Hey- hey Dad, that is awesome! If she is alive and well, we still have a chance of seeking her out, and I can actually have a baby sister!" I can't tell if he even have acknowledged my excitement or if he has just chosen to ignore it. "Her hair held this beautiful reddish colour, just like yours. Beautiful Golden skin, her genetics inherited from your mother. I'm sorry I've given you the curse of my dull, greyish skin." He chuckle, then yet again, continues on. "I wish you've had the chance to grow up alongside her." Was his last comment. I get back onto my feet, as he was the one lightly shoving me off of his lap. I don't know what to say, what to think anymore. What is there to say, what am I supposed to think?
My gaze follows as my dad rolls off to who knows where, before it falls to the photo still firmly placed in my grasp. My hand caresses my baby sister I didn't even know the existence of just this morning. My view moves back to my dad, only just catching the glimpse of him, rolling upon the doorstep, disappearing behind the dangling Pearls, covering the opening. Even though it is not for his ears to catch, I am making this promise for him: I will use any opportunity available, to track that Troll down. And I will find her, even if that is going to be the last thing I'll ever do. She is worth it, because my dad's memory loss is letting him keep that memory alive.
I fold the picture several times and shoves it down into my pocket.