If Twitter and Tumblr are micro blogging then this is a micro Short Story. I’ve been working on a little project (while I’ve been in between projects) for a while, writing short stories that are each less than 2000 words. It’s a challenge, I can tell you that and a fun one. This particular story took about 4 hours (today) from start to finish (as if it’s ever finished!). It’s rough and no one but me has gone over it so there might be some errors although I hope none too severe. This story is 1236 words. All comments are appreciated. I hope you like it. (Line spacing and tabs are a pain on the web but I hope it’s readable as it is.)
Que Sera, Sera
Our sister has died.
She was never the most vital of us, always had her head in the clouds. She always seemed to be sitting somewhere in the shade, looking up towards the skies, daydreaming. I tried to get her to help out more, tried to get her heads out of the clouds, but it was an impossible task. Our sister, U, tried to engage her in conversations about our old home, about why we had our duties but S just listened with half a heart and rarely commented.
She never tried to share her dreams with us either. I don’t know why that was, perhaps instinctively she knew that we could never share her enthusiasm for what might or might not be. She was always the dreamer and I guess we accepted that even though we tried hard to get her to contribute to what we were doing. I always thought that if she would only get her two feet on the ground, she would enjoy the present more. But she seemed genuinely unhappy most of the time. There were even times we feared for her safety, thinking she might do something to harm herself.
She was the darkest of us sisters. Raven black hair, eyes big and dark with a deep, blue eyes and her beautiful, tanned skin. She seemed to glow, somehow, even in the darkest winter months when the sun rarely graced us with its presence and we were overloaded with work.
U sometimes laughed and said that we couldn’t possibly be sisters, the three of us. We are all so very unlike each other. U is bright as day, I used to envy her of her blond, curly hair once upon a time and her fair, ivory skin. She sometimes looks very much like a porcelain doll with her vacant, yet intelligent, eyes. The two of them seemed like such opposites, and I always stood between them with my red hair and impulsive spirit.
Now there’s just the two of us left. A heartbreaking truth and we are left to wonder what we did wrong, left to wonder if we could have done anything differently. And I know who is to blame. I know where the fault lies. I alone know.
We live, now just the two of us, in a clearing by a large tree. It’s a gigantic Ash, certainly one of the largest in the world. Our house is a humble wooden shack but we like it here. It has three bed rooms, a living space, a kitchen and bathroom facilities. We have never lacked anything although S was constantly on our case to get this and that to make our lives easier.
She was obsessed with everything from microwave ovens to computers. She and U used to fight about it. S kept saying that we should keep up and push onward, while U said these were things we had never needed before so we didn’t need them now. I usually kept out of these discussions although sometimes I did take S’s party.
We did get a microwave in the end, a blender and even a television although there is rarely anything of interest in it and now that S is gone, it stands in the corner of our living quarters like an evil reminder of what once was. We used to like watching song contests. They always made S sing and U dance. But we don’t watch those anymore. What’s the point?
I honestly don’t know how this could have happened. I only know that I blame myself for her death. I’m certain I could have prevented it. U claims it was meant to be, that she was always too much of a dreamer to survive this world.
I do not agree. S was a dreamer but no fool and there were forces at work greater than any of us realized. Although in hindsight I wonder if she didn’t know. In hindsight I wonder if she didn’t know a lot more than she left us to believe.
Our work is twofold. We water the great Ash we live under and we decide the fate of men. Together we are the perfect team, sundered our work is meaningless, we could very well be tethered like the great, awful Fenrir. Or, better, we might as well release him. U has become even more set in her ways than she was before S’s death but otherwise it doesn’t seem to have affected her much. I am however shattered. I do not know how to proceed. I can hardly get up in the morning. Without S my life seem useless. I perform the same tasks over and over again but now, without her, what’s the use? What’s the meaning of it all? If she isn’t here to dream for us, if she isn’t here to show us the way.
We never realized until afterwards, that’s the horror of it all. We always thought she was just a procrastinating fool but, like all we sisters do, it was important. More important than we realized. The world has changed since she died and it only seems like yesterday. What are we without her? What is the world without her? It’s like we’ve been thrown into the black abyss, we have become blind and deaf to the world and my sister and I can do very little to change that. I try though. Every moment I try. I can’t but continue with my work but without S there is little balance.
And the seems to be Ask dying slowly. Our existence will become even more futile than it already is. The world will fall into chaos, the ocean’s will boil I’m sure and the heaven’s will fall. It’ll all be for nothing. All our hard work lost because of a little mistake. A little mistake I made.
A wrong stitch in the giant weave and now everything is up in the air. Everything is undecided. Everything is uncertain. Even our simple task of watering and judging has become almost unbearably hard. And futile. Meaningless. We are powerless. Living, for me, has become about surviving the moment instead of enjoying it. Each moment is an agony. That’s no way to live. That’s no way to be, but I am.
An impulsive stitch in the weave and this is what we get? How fate has wronged us, we who are supposed to be in charge of it. How fate has wronged us sisters of the when, the now and the will be. How I have wronged us, for the deed was mine and mine alone. And now she’s dead. Gone. Forever.
How can it be? It makes no sense to me. It makes no sense at all. How can the universe just go on lulling without her? I miss her so and that’s why the tears keep on coming. It’s why the work is so hard to bear.
She was dismissible somehow. She of the when. The world goes on without her.
And now we face the abyss that was once filled with her light. We face it, each in our own corners. Me and my sister separately. And the rest of the world? Who cares? Right now all I care about is surviving.
One moment at a time. One agonizing moment at a time.
And all that was to be is now undecided.