H is for Hawk (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain)

Thus was the story of Kim. I shrugged it off and went back to watching TV, feeling a bit restless, like I was supposed to be doing something. I often felt that way, and I attributed it as one of the reasons I was as successful as I was at my job. I always felt like I could do more and spent a considerable amount of my time off duty to do research that otherwise would be done on the job.

I stayed up for quite a bit after, eventually giving in and going into my office to do some research on a rare owl that had shown up recently. After I finally felt satisfied that I accomplished something positive, I decided to let my brain unwind and take advantage of the quiet time by playing a video game for a little while.

I had never really been into games but living on a mountain had seen me find as many ways of entertaining myself as possible on long winter nights. Usually there was something to do around the cabin on those days, but when night fell, it could get pretty lonely and quiet. I was a voracious reader, but sometimes I felt like turning my brain off while still being more stimulated and engaged than just watching TV.

So, I bought a video game system and a handful of games the cashier told me sounded like my type after a couple of questions. He was spot-on with them, and though I didn’t play often, when I did, I found it to be fun and relaxing.

I started to doze a bit around midnight and decided to call it a day. I generally only needed six hours of sleep a night, and Kim had never been an early riser, so I figured I could stretch my night a bit. Breakfast at seven sounded good, though, and I made my way to bed around twelve thirty.

A few hours later, I heard the baby cry, and it roused me from what was already a pretty light sleep. I could hear Kim moving around in the living room and assumed she was digging through the supplies we’d bought to get something and didn’t think much else about it. She had always been a night owl anyway. It was a common issue with Mom that she would often go to bed early and then get up in the middle of the night, tooling around in the dark house until she was tired again and going back to bed with the sunrise.

I forced myself to go back to bed, trusting my sister would take care of whatever she needed. It took a little bit of time, but I was able to get myself to drift back off. The alarm wasn’t set to go off until six, but the interruption threw everything off, and I found myself staring at the ceiling just after dawn.

A sound had roused me from my sleep. In my daze of consciousness, it sounded like an alarm. But when I was able to shake myself back into reality and the events of the last couple of days settled in, I realized what it was. It was baby Rose, crying in her nursery.

I tried to just let it go, assuming Kim was already on top of it. I could try to doze off for a few more minutes if I wanted, but it was probably no use. It was only an hour or so before I was going to get up, and the broken sleep meant I wasn’t likely to get much more rest until the day was done and I went back to bed tonight. I promised myself not to make the same mistake as before and go to bed early. I’d much rather wake up at four with six full hours.

But the sound didn’t stop, and I didn’t hear Kim running around or doing anything about it either. Worried that she had fallen into a deep sleep and was out like a light, I sat up, put on a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt, and slipped on my slippers. Shuffling out into the hall, I glanced at the bedroom door.

It was slightly ajar. Not quite open, but more than someone who had tried and failed to shut the door. It was almost like it was beckoning me to open it.

As I walked closer to it, the sound of the baby’s desperate cries grew louder and more intense. Something sounded wrong. Then it hit me. Kim probably fell asleep in the living room again. That would be why she couldn’t hear Rose crying in the room at the end of the hall. Grimacing, I shuffled to the living room to wake her up.

She wasn’t there.

I blinked and looked again. Unfortunately for me, the act of blinking didn’t materialize her into existence. She was gone.