SHADOW OF A GLITCH

Ami E. Bowen

It began much like any other Tuesday in the Turner household. I woke up, came downstairs and rummaged half-awake in the cupboards for the can of coffee and set the coffee-maker to brewing as I'd been too tired from work the night before to set it to auto-brew. Opening the fridge I heard the old floorboards creak as my sister emerged from around the corner, coming from her bedroom off the living room hallway. I turned, a jug of milk clutched in my hand, to greet my little sister Elizabeth as she slunk into the kitchen looking like hell, (and that'd be putting it mildly), and held out the now-opened container to her face; "Does this smell okay?"

"Ugh!" she waved the milk away and pulled a face, "Good morning to you, too, Davie! I just woke up! Let me at least have my coffee before you attack me with expired dairy!"

I sniffed tentatively at the milk and wrinkled my freckled nose in disgust. I guess cereal is out of the question today and I'll have to have my coffee black with sugar instead of with milk and sugar like I prefer it. "Why do you look so beat, Liz?" I asked, leaning over the counter in my pink plaid flannel pajamas to watch the coffee brewing, "You up gaming all night again?"

I glanced over at my sixteen year old sister and tried my best to look like the concerned older sister, but, the fact that we were only a year apart in age made that a little difficult. For her credit she did look abashed with her head down and her long, straight nearly white hair covering her blue eyes as she sat at the little kitchen table with her bare legs clad in purple pajama shorts crossed at the ankles beneath her chair, "I wasn't gaming, exactly," she says, her voice soft, "I was online researching a game that's supposed to be coming out soon,"

I smiled and dig two clean mugs from the dish washer. Our parents would be up soon. I made sure to make a full pot. I poured two cups and handed Elizabeth her's along with the sugar bowl and a clean spoon.

"What game?" I asked, already knowing I'd regret the question. Elizabeth cradled her coffee mug in both hands, leaning over the table in her purple imitation silk baby doll pajama top. I could see gooseflesh littering the freckles of her skinny arms. Her eyes brightened as she opened her mouth to reply.

My sister and I are like night and day and not only in the looks department. Elizabeth was like a petite little dwarf or elf you'd find in one of those fantasy role playing books; all wispy blonde hair, big baby blue eyes and an impish smile on her round face most of the time. She was short for her age and was often mistaken for being about three grades lower than her current grade. Our parents keep insisting that Elizabeth, like me, would have a growth spurt soon and shoot up like a weed. Well, considering how tall I grew after I turned twelve, and kept growing up until just last year, I can't help but think that most of Elizabeth's would-be height had been given to me instead!

So, at sixteen my sister still looked twelve or thirteen and normally had the temperament of a sweet, yet mischievous little elf. All that was missing were a pair of green leather pointed ankle boots, (with or without bells), and some tapered ears. I, on the other hand, was more akin to a lumbering giant by comparison. I mean, there's nothing wrong with my weight or my height, but, I admit to being a little on the higher end of the scale. "Big boned" our grandmother calls it, striving to be diplomatic, and my hair was cut shoulder length and had natural dark brown waves that, unfortunately, frizzed out something awful in humidity or whenever I take a hair dryer to it after a shower. My complexion was less peaches and cream and more leftover chai latte with a dusting of freckles across my cheeks and nose. It's just that when compared to my little sister I often feel… lacking. But, I try not to let that bother me too much.

"Davie!" I became aware of Elizabeth glaring at me and realized she'd been talking for a full minute while I silently stirred my coffee, leaning against the island bar/counter in our kitchen, ruminating on our sibling differences, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I lied, "You're excited about a new video game. Sounds great, Lizzie,"

She rolled her eyes at me and blew her long bangs out of her face in exasperation.
"Okay, if you were really listening," she starts and I recognize the challenge in her voice, "What's the game and what's it about, huh?"

Oh, good god, it's too early in the morning for this, I thought as I took a small sip of my still-too-hot coffee and pulled back with a sigh. It was still good, but it's always better with milk or creamer. Like pizza; plain cheese pizza is still good, but it's much better with pepperoni, or whatever you're into. "Uh," I hedge, glancing at the clock on the microwave, we had to start getting ready for school soon, "I didn't catch the name, but, it's about fighting the forces of darkness and making sure good triumphs and… and… lots of fighting and maybe some magic and…an epic quest full of adventure and probably some aliens and space battles…."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Elizabeth interrupted, wiping spilled coffee off her face and the table in front of her after she began laughing halfway through my explanation and shooting the hot, dark liquid out of her nose. I guess her's had cooled down faster than mine. "You just described just about every video game scenario in existence!"

"'Just about'?" I ask, trying for innocent and naïve as I drink a bit more of my coffee before setting it on the counter to fish the bread and butter from the cupboard and began making the toast. I open the fridge again to pull out the carton of eggs our mother bought just last week, "I thought I covered them all. Yours must be in there somewhere,"

"You forgot zombies," Elizabeth grinned, showing off the dimple that likes to play hide and seek in her left cheek, "How could you forget the zombies, Davie?"

"I was just getting to them before you interrupted me," I said, buttering a slice of toast and handing it to her, "Is your new game a zombie game?" I asked in concern, just as our parents round the corner into the kitchen, "You know Mom and Dad don't want you playing horror games,"

"Who's playing horror games?" our mother perked up, eyeing the coffee like a drug addict, her gray terry cloth robe's belt cinched tight about her thin waist. She poured herself and our father a cup of coffee, black, and spun her laser beam eyes on my sister, "Elizabeth, you know how we feel about horror games. They give you nightmares. Every time you've played them or watched others playing them you couldn't sleep for weeks!"

Elizabeth sighed and rolled her eyes so far back I wasn't sure she'd be able to retrieve them again. I'd have to ask her how she did that, and lurched noisily up from her place at the table, dropping toast crumbs on the floor from her lap where they'd fallen to as she ate.

"God, Mom! I'm not playing any horror games! Okay?" she set her mug on the counter by mine and made her way towards the living room and her bedroom, "God, you're all so lame!" We heard before her door slammed.

"Hey!" our Dad yelled, "Don't pull me into this! I just got up!"
"Honey," our mother licked her palm and then smoothed down her husband's thinning salt and pepper hair, "We all just got up,"