Mothership

[Tonyksin]

[Amelia Fischer Memories Continued From Star Party]


The house was quiet today.

The only noise in the small home was the low volume music coming from the old-school record player in the living room. The music droned out of the record player, not exactly setting a mood, but instead seeming to wash into the background as if it were simply forgotten by the wayside. On the sofa in the living room was the only occupant of the house currently. Amelia sat in nothing but a nightgown, soft and baby blue. She’d only awakened a little while ago and she hadn’t willed herself to look presentable as of yet. Not that it mattered. It was Sunday, and both her grandparents were already at the shop taking care of business on what was normally one of the busiest days. She too would eventually have to head down there to give them a hand, but she still had time.

Sunday mornings were, after all, her only time she allowed herself to do what she was currently enthralled with.

On her lap sat a time-worn old photo album. She’d pulled it out of the storage cubby as soon as she’d gotten up, as she’d done every Sunday morning since she could remember. Slowly she flipped through the pages, studying every photo as if to burn the images into her mind. At this point, she’d looked at them all so much she could tell someone every detail. Every fold in the clothing, how many hairs she could count on each person’s head. She knew it all like the back of her hand. She reached out and brushed her fingers against one photo in particular.

The photograph in question portrayed a beautiful woman. The woman was smiling happily, seeming to be at a party of some sort. Her hair, as dark and black as Amelia’s own, was worn up in a tight and pretty bun. Amelia tried her best to copy this hairstyle, but it never looked as perfect as the woman in the picture’s. The woman was thin, Amelia guessed probably about as thin as her grandmother. The women in her family must have been blessed to have such svelte and tiny figures. Her face was also very pretty. Amelia shared a nose with the woman, but unfortunately she couldn’t deduce any other similarities, no matter how many times she’d studied over the face of the woman who’d brought her into this world.

Amelia flipped a few pages more, to her favorite picture of them all.

This photo had the same woman in it. It was strange for Amelia to say the word mother, because realistically she’d never been able to use that word to describe anyone in her life. But that’s what this woman was, her mother, she supposed. This time however, the woman looked decidedly different. Her hair was let down, like Amelia’s was now. She lay on a bed wearing a simple dress. The dress was forest green, and flowed out from the woman’s waist beautifully. The woman was not alone though. Her head was leaned down, looking towards her chest, where a small child, no older than 1 years old, lay on her breast, apparently asleep.

Amelia knew it could only be her. Herself. A small baby on it’s Mother’s breast, safe and happy.

Amelia only wished she could remember that feeling.

She brushed her fingers over this picture as well, tracing the outline of the photo as she hummed a soft melody. It was the only thing she could remember from her mother, the soft song that helped her get to sleep when she was little and afraid of the dark. The memory she held dear to her heart. This photograph was the only one she’d ever found that had the both of them in it. Mother and Daughter. It was unfortunate. She wished there had been more. More to help her remember the woman who’d vanished so long ago.

Amelia sighed and closed the book. The thump it made upon closing felt heavy. Weighted down with all the memories that were stored within.

Oh well, she should go and get herself ready, she supposed. She needed to get down to the shop before noon.


[Amelia Fischer Memories Continued Elsewhere]