Goodbyes and Other Impossible Tasks

Sirens and Snow

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One
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There were many sensations she could think up when it came down to that night. A trigger of cold air, the frosty texture of snow, the sound of crunching metal. The way it felt when the realization hit her--all that she lost, all that they lost.

But it was the dark that she remembered most of all. Looking back, years down the line, that is what she'd vividly recall. This is what would haunt her for the rest of her days--the blanket of dark skies.

And that is where our story begins. The heart of the story, the beginning of the end and all the pieces between.

Swimming in a sea of black, nothingness. Her body icy cold, her hands automatically groping for a blanket as she began thinking she would never feel warm again. Trisha Thompson was on the edge of alertness, that space between being awake and asleep--conscious but not. The peculiar feeling was that she couldn't remember having closed her eyes to begin with.

Somewhere, deep at the back of her hazy mind, everything felt wrong. She felt it. At the tip of her tongue, she felt it. Something she couldn't quite reach. Couldn't quite remember. If she reached a little farther... if she tried a little bit harder...

Nearby, she could hear the muffled sounds of music playing. Charlie, her little brother, was always up before her and the music playing had to be drifting from his bedroom. Blaring would be the proper term, really; there was only one volume he knew. Loud.

Still. It wasn't that bad of a wake up call. Not if you compared it to his usual mix of songs. No. It was rather calming. Completely unlike her brother's typical noise.

She listened to the melody, feeling like it was tempting her back to sleep. She supposed it was drawing her back in. A siren's song. Trisha felt that hum of longing, that heavy drift into sleep once more.

But just as she drifted, she heard the crunch of something--footsteps, maybe?--that caused her to stir. Although her limbs felt heavy and weak beyond her half awake state, she moved herself with a groan. God, she wanted to sleep all day but surely she needed to wake up?

Trisha shifted and shivered. Did someone just call her name? No. But voices were definitely carrying. Somebody was speaking to her. Who?  It was disorienting, like their voice was coming from a tunnel.

Did she forget something? Were her parents downstairs with friends or family? No? Yes? Why weren't they on Charlie's case about the volume of his music?

The music had grown louder. She hadn't even opened her eyes and had a splitting headache forming already. "Don't move," someone said. Their voice, unfamiliar and urgent caused her eyes to flash open. "Help's coming."

Trisha blinked in pure confusion. Once. Twice. Three times. She lay on a blanket of snow--no wonder she was chilled to the bone!--and was at an uncomfortable angle. Her cheeks felt wet and her legs numb, but still she tried to sit up.

She moaned and pulled herself upward to her knees. A wave of nausea made her gag, heaving forward without anything come up except a faint sting at the back of her throat.

Sensitive to the sound of the music--still high at a distance--and to light which arced from behind her, throwing white spotlights on the snow in front of her face. Trisha flinched, unable to look at anything without feeling dizzy.