Sundown on the Plasma Frigate

Chapter 1: Empty Bottle

Another day in Lacunosa town began as a frosty mirror lake of silence, yet to be disturbed. It was Saturday, and most everyone was sleeping in.

Young Anthea, however, was awake, but still lay in bed. The warm comfort of her blanket held her there, almost against her will. She stared up at the plaster shapes on the ceiling, imagining they were islands and continents, Pokemon and people. Near the corner was one that resembled a Hydreigon’s head, and another almost above her head looked like the region of Kanto.

This was what the young girl liked best about Saturdays: a little time to relish doing absolutely nothing. Not only could she forget about school and her chores at home, but she could also forget about worrying, which was something she often did.

No one could blame her for the things she worried about. Even a child as young as she could sense the tension rising in her family. They could say it was all right all they wanted, but it wasn’t consolation that spoke to her. She’d heard weeping in the walls of her home, and cries of hopelessness that constantly echoed in her head, much more resonant than any reassurance. She often told herself that the things she worried would happen never would, just to tone down the fear. That kind of thing didn’t happen to anyone.

It would be nice to say everything she feared really was excessive. It would be nice to say that the conflict she saw was the result of an overactive imagination, but it was not that way.

The silence of the bedroom next to hers said differently. The empty pill bottles, and the limp arm hanging over the bed said differently. A tense chill shivered through the air that morning, one that could not be ignored, that said this was not just another normal day in Lacunosa town, at least not for Anthea. There was a tragedy waiting to strike, and the girl’s innocence made it that much more painful.

“Cordia?” the girl’s voice was the first ripple in the placid lake of that morning. “You awake?”

She heard her twin sister yawn from the bunk below.

“Um, yeah,” she answered.

“What do you wanna do today?” she asked.

“I dunno,” was the sleepy answer.

Having not received a useful suggestion from Concordia, Anthea decided to act anyway. Eventually she would find some way to entertain herself.

Not bothering with the ladder, she hurled herself off the top bunk, and her feet landed solidly on the floor with a loud thump.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” she said after a pause.

“OK,” agreed her sister, and so the two girls scurried into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Concordia pulled open the fridge, swinging back and forth on the door as she examined its contents, as her mother had told her a million times not to do.

“Will Katherine be here today too?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

Anthea clambered her way onto the counter in order to reach her favorite cereal, and Concordia stumbled towards the table, swinging a heavy jug of milk her small arms could barely handle. The two girls ate breakfast in silence, but something seemed amiss.

Concordia was just fishing for the last marshmallows in her cereal when she asked, “Is mom still asleep?”

There was a pause, as Anthea glanced at the clock and noticed it was already ten. Their mother never slept in this late.

“I’ll go see,” she said.

Anthea’s bare feet padded across the cold wood floor, and into her mom’s bedroom, but as she walked past the bed, the familiar form did not stir.

“Mom?”

No movement.

The young girl moved closer, and peered over the bed, only to meet a pair of hollow, open eyes. Her mother’s face was drained paper white, and she hung limply on top of the sheets.

Still refusing to believe what she saw, Anthea shook the body on the bed, but her fingers touched icy flesh.

She took a breath to say something, but any thought of language had fled from her mind. The girl collapsed to the floor, unable to take it in.

Concordia stepped through the doorway, wondering what had been taking so long, but one look at the scene in front of her froze her instantly. It didn’t take much to realize what had happened. Unable to move, she stood, examining the scene over and over. Both girls were too shocked to cry.

A hungry laconism held the air for a long time, the two children as silent as their mother’s corpse.

The knock at the door pierced the silence like a needle would pierce a balloon.

“Hello?” said a muffled voice from the other side.

Anthea and Concordia knew who it was, but paused before they moved. Any action they took would only solidify the horrible truth of the situation.

Concordia tiptoed towards the door, still trembling in shock. She swung the door open slowly, and as expected, Katherine stood on the other side. The woman wasn’t that tall, her head only a few inches above six-year-old Concordia’s. Her face was framed by fluffy brown hair, and sparce bangs fell over her forehead.

“Good morning,” she said in a voice that sounded like brown sugar.

“G-good morning,” the young girl returned, avoiding Katherine’s eyes.

“Are you all right, Concordia?”

“Umm…” she began, but then trailed off. No one told the truth when asked that question.

“Grace!” the older woman called. “It’s me, Katherine!”

She turned to Concordia. “Is she not awake yet? I told her to get some good rest.”

The girl couldn’t say anything.

“Grace!” she said again, “You can’t make me believe you’re asleep. Come on.”

She stepped towards the mother’s bedroom, and Concordia tensed. But as Katherine stepped inside, her eyes were immediately drawn to the empty medicine bottle on the ground, then to Grace’s bloodless arm hanging over the bed.

“No,” she breathed. “I told you not to-- things would be different--” but she knew her words would make no difference now.

So the three stood still, again fading into silence.

There were plenty of nice things that could have happened at that moment, or if not that, a number of consoling things that could have been said, but none of them were.

The world has a way of not being nice.