ROME VINUYA
Clara Martin, age 12, fell into the sky. In the dead of night, she wandered out of the house, locked in a trance. The clouds enveloped her completely. The only witness was her older sister, Liz, who watched this unfold from her bedroom window.
The Martin family had simply been going through the motions. Like any other day, chores had to be done on the farm: Clara tended to her deceased mother’s favourite house plant, and Liz swatted away her sister’s incessant requests to be taken out on rock-collecting excursions.
Even leaving the house at such a late hour was not exactly out of the ordinary for Clara. She was always ruled by her whims. It was likely that she had simply stepped out to find rocks on her own or check on the farm animals. When she stopped obeying the laws of gravity however…well, that was concerning.
Naturally, Liz rushed out of her room and shrieked for her father’s help. Her father, Jules, pried himself out of bed and merely rubbed his eyes and blinked hard. A second later, they heard a creak of a door. Clara came out of her room, yawning, just as visibly tired as her father.
‘What is it?’
Liz’s jaw fell to the ground. Of course, this was written off as typical frantic behaviour from Liz. Her family quickly returned to bed, annoyed, leaving her stammering in disbelief in the hallway.
Jules suspected it was a delusion brought about by the grief of her mother’s passing a few months ago.
‘It’s just your anxiety acting up,’ he would say, matter-of-factly. ‘Back when you were in school, your teachers always said you couldn’t keep control of it, and now you’re seeing things.’
‘My anxiety isn’t causing hallucinations, Dad!’
‘Then how do you explain this then, hm? I would send you to a shrink if we had the money… ’
Even after a year, the drought still had not ceased. Funds had run out. Non-essentials had to be cut back on, meaning Clara had to miss this year’s con. Despite Liz’s offers to help out financially, as usual, Jules was too stubborn to accept.
‘Funeral expenses haven’t exactly helped. Please, can you not add anything more to my plate, for once, Liz?’
Liz opened her mouth but quickly shut it. Sometimes she had to know when to stay silent to keep the peace. At first, she tried to forget what she saw. However, the guilt that she had potentially lost another family member she could have saved was etched into her bones.
That night, Clara sat down for dinner and acted as if nothing was wrong. She always acted like something was wrong. Maybe her friend borrowed something without asking or maybe another one of her favourite shows she was obsessed over was cancelled. That night, she didn’t say a word. This would happen again and again until many weeks of Clara’s odd behaviour had passed.
She stopped pleading to be taken to the con, stopped arguing with her dad to keep her hair short the way she liked it, and even stopped tending to their mother’s old house plant, which withered away without her care.
Eventually, Liz marched up the stairs with determination blazing in her eyes and threw Clara’s door open. She found Clara lying in bed as motionless as the rocks she collected, entranced by the ceiling. She responded to the sudden intrusion with nothing but a grunt.
‘Clara!’ Liz announced. ‘I’ll take you to the con.’
‘No, Liz. We don’t—’
‘Don’t worry about the money. I’ll find a way to pay for it myself.’
‘I don’t think I’m up for it, Liz.’
‘Then I’ll take you out for a rock collecting adventure! I’ll drive you anywhere you want!’
‘Seriously, I’m good.’
Those 3 simple words crushed Liz, but there was still a fire within her. She snatched a vase filled with rocks off the shelf and held it in front of Clara’s face. ‘This is important to you! I may not understand the appeal, but I know you love them! So, get up and — and be yourself again!’
‘Liz, I honestly don’t know why they were so interesting to me either. It’s not a big deal.’
Distracted by her thoughts, she didn’t notice her grip loosening. There was a loud crash! The vase had broken into two. Rocks of various sizes, colours and shapes spilled onto the floor.
Liz’s hand flew to her lips and winced, instinctually preparing herself for an earful. Instead, Clara simply blankly stared.
‘Um, Clara…I’m so sorry. I know how much that vase meant to you. Maybe we can fix it and—”
‘It’s fine, Liz. Could you just give me a minute to myself? Shut the door on the way out.’
‘Oh…sure. If you need me, just ask, alright?’
Liz tried placing a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder, but instead, it passed right through her. Her eyes widened in shock, but Clara did not react at all, as if it didn’t even happen. For the first time, Liz really looked at Clara closely and didn’t see her sister. She didn’t even see a person. There was nothing but mist in the vague shape of someone she loved.
Her stomach churned. Liz sprinted out of the house. Her legs moved on their own in a blind panic. If this wasn’t her sister, then what was she? More importantly, was there even anything she could do about it? A thousand thoughts raced through her head, as her heart began a mad escape out of her own chest. Her knees began to buckle. Her brain became consumed by a thick fog. Shortly, she couldn’t even feel the ground below her at all. Liz had fallen into the sky.
*
She couldn’t remember how she got there, but Liz found herself on a couch. In front of her was a TV. No, in front of her was her TV. This was her house, but everything felt slightly off. She strained her head but she just couldn’t tell what was so wrong about her surroundings, like there was some sort of mental block in her brain keeping her from discovering the truth.
Her body was stuck in place, with a stagnant buzz all over her skin. Finally, she managed to turn her head, and saw who was sitting next to her on the couch. Clara, just watching TV. Her brown hair was still just as short as it was a month ago when she disappeared. For a few seconds, Liz could only stare at her. Clara. She was really there. Clara. She just needed to get her attention.
‘Clara!’ she erupted.
Slowly, Clara ripped her gaze from the television screen and turned to Liz. Her face was completely unreadable, her eyes glassy.
‘Yes, Liz?’
‘You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive! You got—’
‘Sucked into the sky?’
‘Um, yeah. You were—’
‘Replaced?’
‘You know? Look, I think this place has some sort of effect on us. It’s dulling my senses, making it hard to move. We have to power through it, OK? We have to keep moving.’
Clara sighed deeply. ‘Liz. Could you try watching the TV for a minute?’
‘This isn’t the time for one of your TV shows. Come on!’
‘Just trust me.’
Reluctantly, Liz did what she was told. On the screen, she saw an identical version of their home. It must have been their real house. Jules walked by, and said, ‘Hey, Clara, have you seen your sister?’
‘I think she’s in her room!’ responded an off-camera voice.
‘This…this is what the other you is seeing,’ Liz said.
‘When I first got here, I tried calling out to the screen. I tried to get you to notice me, but…you just looked right through me.’
‘That must’ve been terrible.’
‘Eh, I’m used to being ignored. The thing is…over time, I realized that this place isn’t as bad as I thought.’
Liz had to force her brain to process those last few words. ‘What?’
‘I’m saying, this isn’t a prison! I can watch this screen, see the people I love, but another me— a better me can handle the hard stuff!’
Liz shot out of her seat. ‘Handle the hard stuff? Clara, that’s called living!’
Her blank expression started to melt, and tears started streaming down her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m not made for it, alright? I tried my best, and I failed. Just leave me.’
‘Have you lost your mind? Come on, we’re leaving!’
She reached for her sister, but with a simple wave of Clara’s hand, Liz’s body was flung back on command. It was as if an invisible lasso tugged her away. A wall of clouds formed in front of her and hardened into brick.
Her surroundings dissipated into mist, as she was left in complete darkness.
‘Clara!’ she cried out, as she furiously punched the impenetrable wall.
Even if there were no bruises in sight, the pain on her knuckles felt all too real. There was nothing she could do. She was helpless, just like when Clara first disappeared, and just like when…when…
‘When what?’ asked a voice.
A familiar figure emerged out of nothing. Her auburn hair shone like a beacon in the darkness. Liz had longed to see her comforting smile again for so long, but now it felt as if she had never left at all.
‘I…don’t remember, Mum. I’m sorry. I was supposed to take care of everyone. I wasn’t supposed to be such a failure!’
‘Shush, you’re not a failure. You’ve tried so hard, and you can rest now. You don’t need to try anymore.’
She looked at her daughter with sympathy, softly cupping her right hand around her face. Liz attempted to hold onto that hand with her own, but she couldn’t even grasp it. All she could do was look back at this nostalgic, living memory with a pained smile.
‘You died, didn’t you?’
‘What do you mean, honey?’
‘You’re not real…but Clara is. And I do need to try. I need to every day, even if it hurts, because there’s still someone else who needs me.’
On cue, Clara’s voice said, 'You're really not going to leave me?’
The illusion of her mother disappeared into a puff of smoke as Liz turned to face her sister. Clara stood in the distance, having materialised out of nowhere, her gaze glued to the floor.
‘Never.’
‘But you’d be happier without me! I can’t be what everyone wants me to be!’
‘Why do you think that? I want you to be you!’
‘A better me! I can’t change. I…understand why you hate me. I don’t blame you for it.’
‘I don’t hate you, Clara. I hate myself for not being able to help you, like Mum could.’
Suddenly, Liz felt two arms wrap around her. ‘I still don’t think I’m ready to go back.’
She smiled warmly at her younger sister and held her tighter. ‘Do you want to know a secret? Neither am I. Let’s do it anyway, OK?’
The two sank, as solid ground turned to formless clouds. They felt the rain hit their cheeks, and thunder filled their ears. The drought was over, and they were flying to the ground, back home.
Rome Vinuya is a writer based in Sydney, attending Macquarie University. Born in the Philippines, Rome moved to Australia when he was 3 years old. Aside from writing stories, he enjoys drawing as a creative outlet. He also has a particular fondness for comic books.
