That night I sat in my room after a dinner conversation that consisted of Lucille going over every detail that she'd want for her wedding while my fork pushed around cooked carrots as I stared down in deep thought.

My fingers were back typing at the keys rhythmically.  Once I started, it was difficult to stop.  The clock on the wall dinged and I looked up.  It was midnight.  I sighed and stood from my chair- stretching out the crick in my back from sitting for so long.  I took the paper out of my typewriter and stowed it in my bag to bring to work tomorrow before changing into my pink nightdress and climbing into bed.  I turned off the oil lamp at my bedside, slipping the room into complete darkness.

I lay on my side, my eyes barely adjusting to see the barely visible outline of a photo frame beside the turned out light.  I knew the picture inside as I'd looked at it everyday.  It was a family photo.  Father, Mother, Ralph, Edith, Constance, Joseph, Herbert, Lucille, and I standing in front of the fireplace during a Christmas ball we'd always held.  I remember I was a mischievous little brat that day.  Hiding under the tables and giving the guests a fright.  Mother didn't yell at me though.  In fact- she found it quite humorous.  But I did get scolded later.  Lucille and I were the only ones still home with father now.  Everyone else had gotten jobs or were now married.

I rolled over and rest my hands behind my head- staring at the ceiling.  If my mother were here, she'd be ecstatic that Lucille was getting married.  She'd understand that I wasn't ready for a suitor.  She'd. . . Well, she'd understand me.

I sighed, facing back to the picture frame before pressing my lips to my fingers and putting them against where my mother stood in the photograph before tucking my hands under my head and closing my eyes.

• • •

"Mama! I'm scared!"

My feet pitter-pattered against the hard wood as I ran into the main room where my mother was sitting in front of the fire, knitting a blanket.  The lightning lit up the room and I gasped before hiding under the part of the blanket that rest against the floor as thunder nearly shook the mansion.

"Come here darling." She said, picking me up and resting me in her lap, holding me close.

"It's only a little thunder. It's just a noise Kitty." She whispered, using the nickname she'd given me when I was two.

"It's loud." I whimpered, clutching onto her blouse.

"Do you remember the fireworks that father sets off at our Christmas ball?"

I nodded, remembering the bright red and green lights that scattered the sky.

"Think of it as those. Think of it as God's fireworks for the angels."

"What are they celebrating?" I asked.

"I don't know-" My mother paused, "But everybody is celebrating something somewhere. Maybe it's a birthday."

I smiled slightly to myself before holding onto her harder at the sound of another boom!

She stroked my auburn curls and kissed my head before softly singing.

"Távolról, régen, olyan fénnyel, mint egy ember, olyan dolgok, amik a szívem évekig tudni, évről évre emlékeznek, és egy dal, amely egykor decemberben énekel."

I looked back up at her to see the grey bags under her eyes. How her cheeks were sunken in and her hair not as vibrant as a blonde it was. I leaned back and pressed a hand to my cheek and it came away in a sticky red; my eyes widening.

"M-Mama?"

"I miss you. . ."

• • •

I bolted upright in bed, breathing hard as my chest moved up and down at a rapid pace. I quickly put my hands to my cheeks for any red and sticky liquid; but only felt the tears streaming down and the wisps of hair that stuck to them in a cold sweat. The clock read 4:30 in the morning.

It wasn't often I'd have these nightmares. Maybe once a month. These beautiful dreams that would take a turn for the worst thing imaginable. It'd sometimes get triggered by a particularly awful story in the crime section. This one being a woman being killed. And all I could think of was my mother- even if they were killed in two separate ways. If father knew even a little, he'd have me switch my section immediately to reviewing vaudevilles and such. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let that happen.

I swallowed hard to keep more tears from spilling and laid back down; feeling my body still quivering.  Sleep was not going to come for me.

I got dressed with my pink skirt and blazer and packed my bag before heading down the stairs; making sure not to step on the creaking floorboards.  I wrote out a note in scribbly handwriting.

Father,

Off to work early.  Won't be back until later tonight.  Don't wait up for me- Snyder needs me to work as hard as I can for the paper.

                                              - Katherine

So maybe the last part was a bit of a stretch.  Snyder did need me to work on the paper- just not the story I'm actually writing.

I set down the pen and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind me.

It was around 5am now and a few people were out and heading to for work.  My chest fluttered in excitement to get to my typewriter and continue the story- as morbidly terrible as it may sound.  I want to prove myself capable.  I have to prove myself.

I just hope nobody ends up in the same fate as Anne Harbor.

•

Edit: forgot to mention! So the Pulitzer family spoke Hungarian (as much as I've read) see if you can guess the song her mother was singing!😉