The Eternal Dreams Trilogy (Most Imaginative Setting Winner 2012)

Chapter One: The Funeral (Part 2)

        The five of us huddled around Adora’s bed, her surroundings as white, pale and lifeless as she was. If it weren’t for the heartbeat monitor she was hooked into, filling the air with a persistent electronic beeping, I’d have sworn she was already dead. A hospital was no place for children to go alone, Keeley and Garnett had told me. I was beginning to understand that a lot of places weren’t meant for people to go alone, and yet we did anyway. We had no other choice.

        “She sleeps a lot,” Thalia whispered, holding her sister’s hand.

        She kept her voice low as if she was afraid she might wake Adora. At that point, we weren’t sure if anything could wake her up. Osias was pacing back and forth, going over every theory he could of what could have caused her collapse, or more importantly, how we could ensure it never happened again. Cora just sat at the foot of the bed silently, her eyes flipping over to Adora any time she saw movement. Kanoa was leaning up against the wall, sighing every so often as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening. Or maybe because he thought it was somehow his fault.

        The hospital curtains shielding her from the rest of the room reminded me of the bubble Osias used to place over her before a battle began… Wait. Bubble? Battle? What the hell was I talking about?

        Suddenly I was very aware of the two different plains of life I was living in. My mind was fractured, lost somewhere amongst the pieces. I wasn’t sure if my over-exposure to memories was causing me to lose my grip on the distinction between dream and memory, or if it was because the memories were getting closer in time to the present. Either way, I was losing myself more and more. The memories were becoming the dream.

        “She was awake for just a moment and told me to tell you guys not to come because hospitals were depressing,” Thalia said, recalling a moment I doubted actually happened. She had been less than stable since her sister’s collapse. “I laughed. I couldn’t believe that was the first thing that came to her mind, and yet it was so like her. I told her you guys wouldn’t come here for the hospital, but for her. If she...Doesn’t make it, I’m glad those are the last words she heard.”

        “She’ll make it,” Kanoa muttered, frustrated to think the contrary could even be a possibility.

        This was the first time the six of us had really been separated. I realized that the longer life went on, the less frequent ‘firsts’ became. Life was ruled by ‘lasts.’ I wanted to stay here, in a place where the six of us were whole. But at the same time, all my memories felt tainted now, making me wish I could just forget them all like a bad dream. Adora and Delphia’s words clashed together in my mind in direct opposition. I was at a loss. Was I supposed to let go of the past or not?

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        “I think the reason I’m so…devastated by her death is because I just keep replaying memories over and over in my head,” Thalia continued, sounding as though she was reaching some kind of end.  “And the memories themselves are wonderful, things I will cherish forever but… I’m realizing those are the only memories I will ever have now. There are no more to make… I guess I always knew this moment was coming, in a way. There was just so much of me that wanted to ignore it, wanted to believe that we would be exceptions to the rule. I figured hey, if we were born together…”

        She didn’t have to finish. Her eyes darted around the circle, ashamed to stoop back to this level of sorrow. She shakily rose to her feet and stepped away from her sister, allowing someone else to take the funeral floor. I still didn’t have anything to say. Cora looked as though she had settled on whatever it was that had been troubling her mind and stepped forward. She seemed nervous.

        “If the rest of you don’t mind,” she said, a slight tremble in her voice, “I’d like to sing a song I wrote a while ago. I never had the courage or opportunity to actually share it. I’m just sorry this is what it took to get it out of me.”