Gaslight Trials | The Wattys2023 Shortlister ✔️

14 | A Master of the Game

"I learnt about it only later. Meanwhile, I was a pathetic wretch. My career was gone. I felt I was doomed to a lifetime of misery. Until I met your Ma. She was a shining light in the darkness. She made me want to create. Life had meaning again. And she inspired me to do exceptional work, to make hundreds of lil' rascals happy, as a toy maker."

"Ye were a darn good toy maker, too. Ye are. Come on Pa. Ye're gonna make so many more toys."

Pa stands up from the bench, but then sways as if unsure which way to go, clutching at his chest. A flurry of coughs shakes his body as it moves back and forth, and then slams down on the stone floor. Blood is trickling out of his mouth in small rivulets.

Three constables push me aside and barge into his cell.

There mus' be a mistake. This can't be happening.

Hadn't I done everything in my power to bring Pa to the safety of Lighthaven? I defeated the Bomb Queen. My own best friend. I almost died facing the Demolisher.

I did it all for 'im.

The life in Lighthaven was... is going to be his ultimate prize. The bestest of the apothecaries are gonna treat him.

"Pa!" The strangled cry comes out of my throat, and my muscles move again. "Pa!" I repeat, shoving through the crowd of law peeps, and kneel at his side.

"You know, Veda. What makes you different, makes you strong. And you are nothing like anyone I'd ever met. Not like anyone in Fumedge, or Lighthaven. Your mind has grown and spread beyond these two ponds. Do take care of Vogel. Let me tell you a secret. He is neither fully a bird, nor an automaton. Found him in the mouth of our Cat, so many years ago. A gruesome sight. Over half of him was missing, did you know that? But I healed him, and patched him up, encased him in the automaton armor."

Vogel is a cyborg? 

But I can't think of this, not when my Pa's life is slipping away right before me eyes. "Shush, Pa. Ye can look after Vogel yerself. We'll do it together."

"I fear my play has come to an end, but you... You are the master of the game. And it is time for you... To spread your wings."

My throat is tight with tears, hoarse with fatigue.

All I can do is shake my head as Pa continues, "You will have a nice home, a pleasant life. And then, who knows? You will be off into a new adventure." 

He puts a forefinger on his heart, jus like he did when he was saying goodbye to me at the train station.

I return the gesture and hate it. I don't want this to be our goodbye. "It will be our home, Pa. Ye gotta try this lung machine I made for ye. See a fancy bath with many of dem nice-smelling soaps."

"Imagine the food you will eat now, sweetpea. Ah, I can see it before my eyes. That crispy chicken in a delicious creamy cheese sauce. The chocolate pudding. Fresh warm loaves of bread loaded with butter."

"None of 'em can hold the candle to yer Hasselback taters, Pa."

"You know what..." Pa struggles to speak as his eyes get that defocused, glassy haze. "Veda. You already make those potatoes better than I do."

His grip on my hand loosens, and just like that, he's gone forever.

"Dad. Dad!" I tap his cheeks. "Help. Someone please help us! Help, please! No! You can't go!" 

Someone is screaming hysterically.

That someone is me.

A prison apothecary pushes past, and touches Pa's pulse. "I am sorry, Milady. There is nothing to be done about it. His breathing sickness had progressed to an advanced stage and... This would have happened anyway."