Written by Blue-Eyed Devil
When someone leaves what gets left behind?
The boy and the girl sat upon a grassy hill that overlooked a lake. The sun was flying low in the sky, casting it’s light off onto the water. The liquid and the light played well together, dancing on the surface with a grace that belied it’s depth. Trees and weeds alike bloomed colourfully, with the insects and birds making their homes and singing their songs to each other, words uncomprehending to the minds of humans. Noise prevailed everywhere; except for where the boy and the girl sat.
They sat comfortably together, close enough to touch one another yet maintaining a distance that may as well have been worlds away. Both looked out at the lake, watching it continue it’s never ending dance, but the boy was really looking at her. He wanted to give her the worlds that kept them apart, embrace them so that he could simply graze her fingertips, give her the smile he knew that she was waiting for. Yet he knew he would not, for the boy was a coward and a forgetful one at that. Such worries plagued him swiftly but they were oft short-lived, eaten away by the blank space that was his memory.
Sometimes the boy wished his memories were technicoloured and forever sharp so that he could remember all good times in all perfect detail, so he could be able to turn to my the girl and say “Do you remember when…”. But it occurred to him that he would also remember all the bad times with identical clarity, the things that should have haunted him; his regrets, his mistakes, all the missed opportunities. But he could not recall them, thanks to the faulted mind he possessed. It was his curse and his gift and, ironically, a constant reminder that memory was a tricky thing; but then again, he thought, what element of humanity was not? These thoughts emboldened the boy for a moment, giving him for once the courage he so desperately wanted. He turned his head, ready to give the girl the worlds that obscured her from his sight.
But she had gone.
The boy did not remember when she had left, going beyond his grasp to a place better suited for her than at his side. She had left him something however; a strange, hollow ache that pounded on his ribcage. Another bad memory. The boy could already start to feel it all begin to slip away but he struggled. He wanted the ache in his chest to stay, not to fade into the nothingness. That ache was proof that the girl had been there at all and with it he could feel her silhouette. He clasped his eyes tightly shut, wanting to hold her for as long as he could yet her form was already dissolving. He grasped for her and the smoke parted around his fingers. He opened his eyes.
The lake was gone, replaced by reality as a dry, dusty dip in the ground. The trees too had vanished, the insect calls and birdsong that had joyfully rung from the branches now yielded to the empty silence. And upon a pile of dirt that may have once been a hill sat a forgetful old coward, waiting with a blank smile on his face for a memory to come back.