house of cards
for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt fff322 "best case scenario"
Original fiction
Word count: 794
Summary: Bronwyn has a dream where her sister is still alive.
Warnings: deals pretty vaguely with a death in the family
**
Beca shuffles the deck of cards like she was born for it, and Bronwyn can only watch in awe. Since when has Beca known how to shuffle cards like this?
"Since you tried to learn it and gave up," Beca says immediately, cards still flying this way and that in a way that looks impossible. "Wanted to be better than you, obviously."
She deals the cards. Bronwyn's stack is much higher than Beca's for some reason, but Bronwyn doesn't even know the game they're playing. She's sure Beca will explain soon.
"You've always been better than me," Bronwyn admits, shrugging.
Beca's smile softens. There are leaves in her hair and dirt under her fingernails. Has she been gardening? Beca doesn't garden. She hates dirt.
"Only sometimes," Beca corrects her before Bronwyn can ask about the gardening. "I could never be a jeweller. Don't have the eye for it."
Bronwyn laughs. "Now that is not true. I could teach you sometime."
"Okay. Let me teach you the game first."
The card game is convoluted and unfamiliar. Beca's hands glide this way and that on the table as she explains, and Bronwyn is still lost on why her stack of cards is bigger than Beca's.
"…right, mom?" Beca finishes her explanation, gaze landing on Bronwyn's right.
Bronwyn looks over, and their mother is there. She's leaning back in her chair and smiling indulgently, a kind of amused tilt to her mouth. Bronwyn recognizes it from her childhood as the face mom would make whenever Beca and Bronwyn did almost anything together. Especially when they bickered over meaningless things or came up with their own stories.
"It's been a while since I played this game," mom admits. "But yes, I'm sure you explained the rules correctly."
Mom drapes her long hair over one shoulder and leans in, looking at Bronwyn. She's still smiling. "Youngest goes first."
Bronwyn is stuck under their mother's warm gaze for a moment before she remembers herself and flips the top card of her deck right side up, only to find it completely blank. Bronwyn stares at it in confusion.
Mom and Beca laugh.
"What? What's up with this deck?" Bronwyn turns the card over once again, but the other side has the same uninteresting pattern all the cards have in the back. Beca and mom keep chuckling, and eventually Bronwyn can't help but laugh along.
She wants ask again about the card, when there's a cup of tea placed in her free hand. She looks up and meets the smiling eyes of her father, who's holding a tray.
"Good game?" he asks brightly, offering identical cups to mom and Beca too.
Bronwyn investigates the cup. "Where did you get this tea set? And why are we using it now? Looks fancy."
Dad leans down to kiss the top of her head. "A beautiful tea set for a beautiful afternoon."
Now Bronwyn is laughing again. "Can't argue with that."
She goes to grab another card off her pile, which the rules must have said was okay. This card is also blank, save for two red lines crossing it. She holds it up to mom and Beca.
"Okay, what now?"
"Give that to me," Beca says, reaching across the table. When she has the first, completely blank card in her hand, she pours some of her tea on it.
Bronwyn stares in confusion, then frantically reaches out. "What are you doing, you'll damage the table!"
Mom pats her arm. "It's okay. Give me your other card."
Bronwyn does, only for mom to pour her tea on the crossed out card. "Okay, this is a weird game. I'm not feeling it."
"I'm not either," says mom, still pouring. The wooden table darkens and the card becomes immediately soggy.
Bronwyn grabs mom's wrist. Some of the hot tea splashes onto the back of her hand, and she hisses. "Mom, stop."
Mom meets her eyes. "I can't, Bronwyn, I can't."
Pain shoots through Bronwyn's other arm. When she looks over, she sees her dad, no longer smiling. He's on his knees next to her chair, squeezing her arm desperately.
"She's gone, Bronwyn, where did she go?"
Bronwyn frowns. "Who's gone?"
"Beca's gone, what did you do?"
"Me? What do you—" But when Bronwyn looks up, Beca's no longer sitting across from her. Bronwyn looks around the room, but it's suddenly too dark to see properly.
"Beca?" she calls out.
"Where did she go?" her parents both cry out, almost in unison.
Mom is grasping her hand now. "Why couldn't you just play the game?"
There's a cold, unreal feeling in her stomach. "I'm sorry, I really tried. Maybe she's in the kitchen?"
Her parents' cries drown her out. She tries to speak again, only—
Bronwyn jolts awake.

















