Silence part VI of VI

That evening, Tabatha prepared a cake for her father, a gesture of tenderness and affection she never before would have thought of attempting. She waited nervously for his arrival home, anticipating his usual drunkenness.

After an eternity of waiting, the door opened and Karl walked in, surprised to see Tabatha up and about. He lowered a single bushy eyebrow in suspicion.

"Hi, Daddy," she choked out, the term of endearment strange and foreign on her lips. "I made you a chocolate cake."

"What do you want?" he barked.

"I just want to talk... about Mom and Kylie," Tabatha said, lowering her eyes in an attempt to appear submissive.

Unexpectedly, Karl did not lash out at the mention of his lost wife and daughter. Instead, he stood for a long while, regarding Tabatha's frail body and weak, unconfident look. Tears came to his eyes, he turned red, and he sat down with his head in his hands.

His emotional response scared Tabatha with its awkwardness at the same time that it gave her hope that he was still a normal, vulnerable, and most of all, human creature. She sat down, cake forgotten, waiting for him to speak. She was confident that this, finally, after 14 years of silence, would be the time Karl Burga would open his heart to his youngest daughter.

Silence part V of VI

Tabatha strode purposefully down the sidewalk and made a turn off to a small, dilapidated park. She sat on an aging swing suspended by a rusty chain. This was the spot she meditated at, and she needed it now more than ever.

There had to be some way to summon the blue orb, she knew. She had seen it in the daylight before, Friday after school, and she wanted to converse with it now.

Tabatha grasped her locket, and the habitual gesture suddenly seemed important. She opened it. The hinged silver heart contained a picture of Sharon holding her newborn girls, a proud maternal smile on her face and peace in her eyes. Tabatha, the unusually tiny baby on her mother's right, held Kylie's right hand with her left.

"Come to think of it," she thought, "I touch the orb with my left as well." This realization seemed monumental, and she held the locket up in her left hand and shut her eyes.

After several minutes of deep concentration, Tabatha heard a buzzing, and opening her eyes, she saw the orb once again, shining with what Tabatha now saw as a sororal light.

"Kylie," Tabatha whispered. The orb spun as if excited by the sound of Tabatha's voice. "Don't worry, big sister. I'll do whatever you need. He'll listen." The orb spun brighter, and sparked. Each spark that touched Tabatha made her think of Karl. As the orb twisted faster, it disintegrated, until Tabatha could no longer see its afterglow. She lowered her still-extended hand, put on her locket, and swung, knowing the orb wouldn't be back.