FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

To say you feel sick would be downplaying how you feel. Like a wrench cracking your skull, it all comes in an instant: All of the heat leaving your body cold and stiff, a disorienting snap of pain that begins to root and fester in your head, and a queasy feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. You swallow some spit and take a breath in through your nose. Despite the raging storm of emotions coupled with confusion, you need to keep yourself calm, or at least appearing so to your young, questioning daughter. Perhaps she can already tell something is wrong, but is too young to pick up whatever signs you're making. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as you try to maintain a steady breathing, your mind racing to come up with an answer. The thought of your daughters asking about their missing mother has been the subject of your late night struggles to sleep ever since you've dedicated yourself to raising them. Where she is, what she looks like, how she was, who she is... Even after nearly five years, you still have yet to come up with an answer.

"Dad?" You're snapped from your frantic thinking and look down to your daughter. You can see a hint of worry tainting her expression as she looks up at you, still waiting for your answer. You desperately want to call it off; contrive any sort of reason to promise to tell her later, though you know that it wouldn't satisfy her for a question as simple as what... mom looks like. Already feeling your throat starting to tighten, you swallow once again before continuing.

"She... Your mother... was... a rabbit," you force yourself to answer. A quick look to the side revealed Lisa curiously looking to you from her rest against the arm of the couch. While you can't tell if Sally is listening or where Amanda might be, considering their hearing, it's beyond a shadow of a doubt that they can hear your conversation about their absent mother. Your thoughts race as you try to think of what you should say. Should you be truthful and describe exactly what that wretched woman looks like? Acid runs up your throat and threatens to enter your mouth as memories of her come back. You swallow again and clench your hand into a fist. "She... had green eyes and brown hair. She was just a bit taller than... than Ms. Ruby," you lie.

"Where is she?" you hear from behind you, your fear confirmed as you see Amanda in the hallway.

You want to say you don't know, but you suspect that it'll be near impossible to maintain any other lies built on that. Instead, you decide to go with the best response your frustrated, panicked mind can come up with. "She's... She's gone."

"Where did she go?" Lisa asks.

You're starting to choke on your words as you answer, "She's not coming back, sweetie. She's..." It's becoming harder and harder to say 'die', especially so with continuing this awful lie. You feel your eyes beginning to water as you try to find a softer alternative for your daughters. "She's in a better place."

"What better place?" she asks.

You take a slow, deep breath and wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. You should've expected such a question, and you don't envy your future self for the explanation you'll have to give. "I'll... tell you all when you're all older. OK? Just know that... she's not here."

"How older?" Megan asks. Their young age continues to be hammered in as a hard detail as you realize just how many realities of life have yet to become evident to your young daughters. From the three you could see, their expressions were that of confusion. You shouldn't have been surprised, but you desperately wish that such a question could've come later than sooner.

"When... When you're all old enough to be in high school." They don't seem satisfied with your dodging of the question, but Megan answers with a quiet, "OK." Lisa shifts back to watch TV with Sally, and Megan slowly leaves your side to join Amanda going down to their bedroom. You do your best to take a deep breath in and out as quietly as you could. You entertain the idea of working as you briefly glance back to your monitor, but as you try and settle back into your chair, a feeling of unease begins to reoccupy your thoughts. Like an awful cold, it distracts you every working second through it all. Obvious problems take longer to solve as you mull over everything that happened in those short few minutes. You barely recognize that it was time to "clock off" as you push yourself through the last issue. You close the laptop and run your hand through your hair, feeling no better than when you got back to it a few hours ago.

You were planning to try out something new tonight; try making something for yourself and the girls, see what they might like and expand your pitiful cooking prowess. However, the only thing you could think to make competently is just sandwiches and leftovers for dinner, though from how you feel you doubt you could force a single bite down. After announcing your tired decision to the girls, you can hear Amanda voice her displeasure with a disappointed "Aww" from her bedroom. You make a few sandwiches for the girls, hoping that Lisa and Sally's lack of a reaction is in proper time for them to eat something less simple than soup, and then a few for yourself. You force yourself to eat your cold meal, knowing that you'll most likely feel terrible later starving than now.

Hours slowly pass as you retire to the kitchen chair to mindlessly browse the web, hoping to find anything at all to distract yourself for just a brief moment. Eventually, it comes time for your daughters to get ready for bed. You tell the four, each going off to brush their teeth and dress in their pajamas at their own speed. You tell them all goodnight as you retire to your bedroom, briefly making sure they're all in bed before you shamble to your own. You dim the lights, leaving it just dark enough to sleep and just bright enough to make out... whatever might be in the dark. You lay yourself down and close your eyes.

You find yourself in front of a large door in the hallway. The doorknob is at eye level, and you see your hand reaching up to grab it and pull it open. You feel scared; like this doesn't belong. You don't remember this door being here before, but you continue to open it. The light of the hallway reveals an old, wooden staircase down into complete darkness. Looking up, you see a dangling light bulb connected to loose wires and string snaking itself up along the ceiling and wall to an old light switch far out of your reach. It all feels wrong; the stairs look old and shaky, the wall an older wood that doesn't match anything else in the house. You don't want to go in, but you can't resist taking a first step into this unfamiliar basement. You remember Amanda telling you to go here, though you can't remember what exactly she said or if she even said it at all.

The light of the hallway from the open door behind you only reveals two more steps down. Despite the unknown danger deep down, you notice something more scary as you stare down into the dark: There's no sound. You can't hear a single thing throughout the house. Nothing from Amanda, Lisa, or Megan; no sounds of TV or bugs outside... You can't even hear your Dad anywhere in the safety of home behind you. You want to cry and back away, but your dream-self continues forward, stepping down onto the next step before it snaps and sends you falling into the darkness like a bottomless pit.

You bolt up, nearly ready to cry as your body shivers from the dreamt chill of falling. You can barely make out your bedroom in the dark as you try to calm down, the sight of your sisters' ears poking out from their bed barely helping you. You slowly get out of bed and wander out of your bedroom, taking a careful peek down the hallway to where that door once was. Seeing that it isn't there, you shakily breathe out in slight relief, though you feel too afraid to try and go back to sleep in your bed. You look down to the other end of the hallway, spotting the comforting glow of your daddy's bedroom past the cracks of the door. Without a second thought, you slowly approach his bedroom and open the door. You can barely see him on top of his tall bed, though the light helps. You timidly approach the side of his bed and reach out to poke his arm. "Dad?"

He snorts and shakes slightly as his eyes snap open, scaring you slightly. He blinks his eyes and looks at you, then mumbles, "Huh? What, sweetie?"

"I had a nightmare...." you say, too uncomfortable to bring up what happened in your dream. "Can I sleep with you?"

He takes a breath in through his nose and rubs his eyes. A few seconds of silence pass before he says, "... Yeah, sure."

You grip the sheets, lift yourself up and take your spot beside him. He shifts away, though you think it's to give you more room. As you get under the covers, you remember a question you wanted to ask before you had to go to bed. Since he's awake, you suppose now will be fine to ask.

"Dad?"

"What? I- Sorry... Yes?"

"Do you have pictures of mom?"

His silence scares you, reminding you of the reason why you came to him to begin with. He isn't looking at you, and for a moment, you're afraid that you're still asleep and in a nightmare. The sudden quiet is broken by him clearing his throat and answering, "No. I... No, I don't have any photos of... mom."

"Oh... OK," you answer, too scared to want to ask more questions. You try to shift around to find a comfortable spot on his large bed, hoping to go back to sleep. You can see him slowly lay himself back down, soon followed by him mumbling a "Goodnight."

You lay your head down, though you quickly realize just how uncomfortable you are sleeping outside your bed. You twist and turn, trying and failing to find that one sweet spot that you can sleep comfortably in. As you flip one more time, you come to realize what might help you relax as you see your father's arm a small distance away. You shift yourself through the covers and close the distance, eventually coming close enough to rest your head on his arm like so many times before. Before you could relax fully and start to fall asleep, you're suddenly shoved away with a quick push as he comes to sit up on the edge of the bed.

You want to cry and you're near ready to start, but something stops you before you could get going: something your dad is whispering between his loud breathing.

"It's not her... It's not her..."

A few tears leave your eyes and are just as quickly absorbed by the fur of your cheeks as you watch his back. You want to ask what you did, but you're too scared to speak up, else you want him to be silent again. Eventually, you see him turn around. You don't know if he's mad. You don't want to ask.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Sally. I didn't- I didn't mean to do that," he says, pausing to breathe. "I... You can sleep here, just... Please... Can you sleep... by yourself? I... I don't... Just not tonight, OK?"

You sniff and rub the tears from your eyes with your hand. "OK...." you respond, shifting one last time to sleep on your side. As you feel and hear him move back into bed, you can feel a few more tears leave your eyes to fall on the bedsheet. You almost wish that you had stayed in your bed.