Slide 2:
Something wakes her – maybe the knock on the front door, unusual for any house, but warningly loud in the middle of nowhere. She rolls over; sinking back through layers of sleep, but something hooks her and keeps her hovering. A sound, faint and irregular through the walls and rooms. Someone hurt? Younger brothers bad dream, maybe? It’s an off-note in the nighttime sounds of the old house, low and pervasive.
Slide 3:
She rolls onto her feet, in a tourists t-shirt three sizes too big, and creeps into the hallway. Definitely hurt – something is vibrating. Inaudible, but throbbing. Rolling through the house, out from the front where the living room is. Wide awake now, she checks the bathroom, the kitchen, walks into the sitting room to find two policemen and her parents. The keening is coming from Mum, in her pajamas. She takes in the look on the policeman’s face – maybe it was a policewoman – and suddenly doesn’t want to hear what Mum has to say.
Slide 4:
She picks out words. raining aunt uncle granddad step-grandma Drunk driver Notorious intersection Dead at the scene
Slide 5:
Tears come but they’re physical, not emotional. There’s no connection, no hysteria, no anger. I’m hugging Mum, staying to see if there’s anything else but having shot the recipient the messengers leave. Mum’s hunched over, crying and keening and Dad’s helpless to do anything beyond what he can do, and it’s not much. They’re gone, they’re all gone, cries Mum. Dad says nothing, just keeps holding Mum and rocking her back and forth. I feel nothing. Shock? It’s an easy excuse, and quick reasoning for my disconnect. I cant do or feel or move anything, so I go back to bed. Wide awake a minute ago, I’m out as soon as the pillow hits me.