Year 6981 st (settled time)

City of Thuma on Lake Tansee of the Finger Lakes

Approximately 470 billion yards to the west, the sun is preparing to rise above the horizon; signaling to Luscin that it’s time to get up. Luscin knows she needs to be dressed and have breakfast prepared before Father wakes, or he’ll be mad. Father mustn’t be mad; he does bad things when he’s mad.

Luscin slides out of bed, quickly spreads her threadbare blanket out even, no wrinkles. Just like mother showed her. Then she slips out of her bed-robe and quickly pulls on her britches and blouse. Her robe goes into her side table’s top drawer, and she quickly tiptoes downstairs to the kitchen. Her tiny five-year-old form hardly requires her to tiptoe, she’s not heavy enough to make the stairs creak if she jumped up and down on them.

She turns on the gas for the stove and clicks the igniter twice. She hates the noise it makes; the click can be heard all over the house and often wakes both mother and Father. She doesn’t bother listening to see if they are awake, they’ll come down eventually, it’s better to look busy when they do. Next, she gets to work on the dough that she proofed the night before. She beats it down and forms it into a loaf. Setting that aside she grabs the coffee pot and fills it with water. Now she pauses and listens for any stair creaking. Hearing nothing, she grabs the taper she keeps hidden under the potholders and opens the oven to light it from the already burning gas. She then lights the top burner for the coffee pot so as to avoid clicking the igniter again. She once lit the oven and burner at the same time and Father saw the lit burner with nothing on it, he said she was wasting gas. He made her smother the gas flame with her hands to teach her not to be wasteful. Luscin is never wasteful now. The rest of the morning meal is in the ice box and final preparations will be handled by mother.

Her early chores are done; if she isn’t seen or heard she’ll be left alone. She darts back up the stairs and goes back to her room. After a few minutes the pot begins whistling, a minute later she hears mother stagger down the stairs. Soon the smell of coffee and baking bread fills the house. A handful of minutes later Father’s heavy steps can be heard descending the creaking stairs.

It's a strange schedule, but Father needs to be in the market shortly after sunup. Nobody wakes up before sunrise better than Luscin. When Father realized she could wake up an hour before sunup every morning without fail, that became her job, one of them anyways. She also cleans the house. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted so long as the house was clean, and Father was up and fed before sunrise.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Luscin uses this time to comb her dull black hair, it used to be shiny, but like so many things in Luscin’s life it’s getting duller with each passing day. But not her eyes, those still shine bright with excitement. Inside she feels alive, it’s the world around her that is dying.

Luscin waits for the sound of the front door opening and closing before racing downstairs. That was her signal that Father had left. Mother may put the left-over bread away if she takes too long. Once it’s away she can’t get it back out until dinner. Another of Father’s rules.

“Luscin, Luscin, Luscin, aren’t we a pair,” mother talks like this a lot, Luscin doesn’t respond.

“Two women reduced to house help, all because I can’t bear another child and you turned out to be a girl. What are the odds,” mother continued unprompted?

Luscin doesn’t know what odds are and wishes Father didn’t get so mad over them. If both of them wanted a boy, mother would have made a boy; everyone knows that.

“I nearly lost you; you know.”

Luscin knows this part too, she’s been hearing it all her life. She came early mother almost died. No more babies. Father is stuck with them because of something called a contract. Mother keeps on mumbling, no need to listen, mother will pass out soon. She doesn’t drink coffee in the morning like Father, she drinks wine. Once mother is asleep, Luscin cleans up whatever mess there is. Sometimes it’s a spill or two, sometime mother pees herself; it’s all the same to her.

She gauges mothers’ level of consciousness, decides it’s safe to sneak a dollop of honey then finishes her slice of bread and drink her cooling coffee.

Mother is almost done with her bottle, time to clean up. She takes the cup from mother’s hand and places it on the table.

Filling her lungs to speak as loud as she can without yelling, “Come on mother, time to walk.”

She’s a little more than half the size of mother; her 35 inches to mother’s 53 inches would seem a big difference. But mother’s boney frame weighs barely 70 pounds and Luscin is stronger than she looks. Mother should eat more but it makes her sick, she’s always sneaking into the water closet and throwing up after big meals. Luscin tugs on her arms and mother, not yet all the way witless leans forward and precariously rises to her feet. Luscin then guides her to the front sitting room where her fainting lounge awaits her, there the afternoon sun will warm her awake in time for Father’s return.

Luscin turns back to the kitchen, washes and puts away the dishes. She wraps the remaining bread in a towel and puts it on the counter next to the stove. Opening the oven, she checks if mother remembered to turn off the gas. The floor looks clean, but not wanting to clean it Fathers’ way if he finds a single crumb, she fetches the broom and makes certain the floor is spotless. The kitchen is clean the rest of the house can wait until after she attends study. She doesn’t so much as glance at her mother as she pulls on her shoes by the front door. Slipping out of Father’s house, Luscin looks forward to her time at the Study of Thuma and seeing her friends.