COPEPOD AUTISM pt. 8
(Neurodivergent author)
The candle's light flickers,
painting shadows across the
walls like a silent sonnet.
The whispers from the kitchen
are a distant lullaby, a reminder
of the world outside their
cocoon. Plankton's antennae
hang limp, a declaration of
his surrender to sleep's embrace.
Eventually Hanna's friends all
left. Hanna herself goes up to
Karen and Plankton.
"I'm sorry," she says
brimming with tears. "I didn't know."
Her voice is a whisper, a soft
wave against the shore. Karen
nods, her screen never leaving
Plankton's peaceful form.
"It's ok," Karen whispers back,
her voice gentle. "It's just part of him."
Hanna nods. Plankton's
snores are the only sound, a
symphony of comfort in the quiet.
Hanna's screen is full of
apology as she sits beside
them on the couch. "I had no
idea," she says, her voice a
soft ripple. "How can I help?"
Karen smiles, her screen never
leaving Plankton's sleeping form.
"Just being here is enough,"
she murmurs, her voice a gentle
tide. Hanna nods, understanding
dawning in her eyes.
Plankton's antennae are a
testament to his peace, finally
still against her neck. His
snores are the rhythm of the
deep sea, a soothing melody
that fills the quiet space.
The room is a sanctuary of
soft light and gentle whispers.
Hanna's screen watch them.
"I'll make up the guest room,"
she says, her voice a soft ripple.
"You guys should stay the night."
Karen nods, her screen still on
Plankton's peaceful face. "Thank you,
Hanna," she whispers, the words a gentle
wave of gratitude.
Karen turns her attention back
to Plankton. "Hey," she whispers.
"You ok?"
Plankton's eye opens, a sliver
of the room's light reflecting
in his pupil. "Mm-hmm," he murmurs.
Karen smiles, a soft moon
in the night of his worries. "We're
staying the night," she whispers.
Plankton's antennae twitch, his
eye widening slightly. "But...the
chum," he mumbles, his voice
a distant echo in the calm.
"Don't worry," Karen reassures him,
her voice a gentle lullaby. "We'll
go back home tomorrow."
His antennae relax, the tension
easing from his body like a
wave retreating from the shore.
"Ok," he whispers.
Karen nods, her smile a beacon
in the quiet. "Let's get you to
bed," she says, her voice a soft
current.
With care, she lifts him, his
body a delicate coral reef in her
arms. They move through the house,
each step a gentle wave that
carries them closer to the guest
room. Plankton's antennae sway
slightly with the motion, his
eye half-open as he takes in
the surroundings.
The hallways are a maze of shadows,
the lights dimmed to a comforting glow.
Hanna has cleared a path for
them, a silent guardian in
the night. Karen's heart swells
with gratitude as they enter the
guest room, the quiet sanctuary
waiting for them.
The bed is a vast ocean, the sheets
a soft embrace that welcomes
Plankton's weary body. She lowers
him onto the cool surface,
his antennae drooping with relief.
Her eyes are a lighthouse,
guiding him through the transition.
The room is a cocoon of
softness, the curtains drawn
like the sea's embrace. Karen's
hands are a gentle tide,
helping him into the bed.
The pillows are clouds for
his antennae to rest upon, the
comforter a warm, enveloping
current. His body sighs
with relief, the weight of
the evening's chaos finally lifted.
Karen tucks him in, her screen
a soft glow in the quiet
darkness. "Good night, Plankton,"
she whispers, her voice a gentle
lapping wave.