Tremble

I was in the middle of a pleasant dream. I was enjoying a tea party in a rose garden with Nan. She was telling stories, and I was making daisy chains in her lap as I listened. 

“Once upon a time,” Nan began. “There were two princesses.”

“Claire and me?” I asked.

Nan laughed. “Yes, their names happened to be Claire and Maya. They were the most beautiful girls in the land, but more importantly, they were kind.”

I smiled. Nan’s voice was low and calm like the gently flowing stream beside the garden. The heady scent of roses smelled sweet and I thought of my mother’s hand lotion. Then the flowers on her grave.

Suddenly, Nan was calling my name. Her voice didn’t sound like gentle water. It sounded urgent.

“Maya! Maya!”

I opened my eyes and smiled to myself, before I remembered that Nan had been gone for almost a year. 

“Maya!” It was Claire calling for me.

I rolled towards my little sister and glanced at her across our dark bedroom. She was sitting up in her bed, clutching her pillow in front of her like a shield.

“What?” I wanted to go back to sleep, to dive back into the dream, to enjoy a few more moments with Nan. 

“I, we have to get up. I felt something.” Claire sounded spooked. Her big, brown eyes bored into mine.  

“It’s OK, Claire. Everything is fine. Want to sleep in my bed?” Sometimes I offered this arrangement when Claire had bad dreams, which happened a lot since Nan had passed away.

“No!” Claire jumped up. She threw her pillow on the floor. “We have to go. Now.”

I stared at her. Soft-spoken Claire never yelled at anyone, especially me.

I pushed away my covers and slid out of bed. I grabbed Claire’s tiny hand. It felt clammy and hot. 

“Come--” I said just as the room began to shake. 

We surged toward the open bedroom door, screaming.

“I’m-scared-I’m-scared-I’m-scared,” sobbed Claire, clinging to my hand so hard it stung. We passed the bathroom and Grandpa’s bedroom. 

Should we knock? Or go in? Would he get angry at us again?

More tremors shook the house. 

Claire and I hurried down the stairs, tripping at the bottom.

She pulled me up. Her wild eyes had never looked so scared. 

“It’s OK,” I said, but I was sobbing too. 

And it didn’t seem OK at all.

Where’s Grampa? Was he still sleeping? It seemed impossible that anyone could sleep through the our screaming and sobbing, not to mention the shaking floors and walls.

We stopped at the doorway to the dining room. Glass littered the floor. All of Nan’s tea cups and saucers had shattered. A piece of white china with half a rose blossom caught my eye.

I thought for a split second about my tea party dream. If only I could have stayed in the rose garden with Nan. I wanted to hear the story about the two princesses.

With a hard shake of my head, I pushed the thought away and squeezed my eyes shut. Think, think, think. 

“What do we do? Where do we go? I don’t want to die!” Claire sobbed and shook her head back and forth, like I’d just done.

We froze as more dishes fell from the shelves and tables. Pictures and framed art clattered at our bare feet. A photo of our parents on their wedding day landed by Claire. She picked it up and hugged it. 

“Be careful of the broken glass,” I said. 

“This one’s not broken,” Claire said and showed me. Sure enough, the glass was intact. Our mother looked as beautiful and impossibly young, her dark eyes bright and her smile open and warm. Our father held her in his arms and looked like he’d just won a contest. I don’t remember them ever looking that happy when we were together. 

I felt another shudder.  More thudding and clattering. 

“Come on!” I pulled Claire through the dining room and down the hallway. We both screamed as the quake continued and the shattered glass pierced our bare feet.

The backdoor was locked. My hands shook as I pushed the deadbolt open. I turned the knob just as Claire said, “What about Grampa?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said. “We just have to go!” I pulled her out the door and into the dark night.

“Where? Where?” Claire was sobbing so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. 

I didn’t respond, dragging her along, trying to run toward the big tree out back. Claire struggled to keep up. 

“Come on!” I said again, and pushed Claire ahead of me, up the steps to our treehouse.

“You have to put down the picture!” I cried.

Claire shook her head. She tucked it into the waistband of her unicorn pajamas. 

The ground shook again. Claire screamed and pulled herself up to the first foothold. 

I followed. “Come on, come on, come on, Claire,” I muttered.

Claire scurried the rest of the way up. My heart raced as I climbed behind her. At the top of the steps we scrambled up and  collapsed on the treehouse platform. We clung to each other and pressed our bloody feet against the branches for balance.

Claire’s sobs had turned to hiccups and gulps. My tears continued to flow freely without sound as I tried to catch my breath and form a plan.

I swiped at my eyes and peeked out the treehouse window. 

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

THE END