The Girl With Lost Memories - Parts 1 & 2 (An OUAT Fanfiction)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 8: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝐼𝓃 𝒯𝑜𝓌𝓃

I don't want to leave the docks. The ocean feels like it's a part of me. It always has. The water's healing, but it's too bad it doesn't cure.

Watching the ship, I can only think, "Man, this town is wack!" What's with all the fantasy stuff? Fairies, flying monkeys, pirate ships, storybooks? It's so wild. Yes, I always wanted to live in a magical world, but this is insane.

Every town has something it's known for. What's Storybrooke's? That triangular building I passed was the post office, so maybe they have postcards or visitors' information since it also functions as a visitor's center. Or "centre," as the sign spells it. Cedar covers the building—red on the top and yellow on the bottom—and there is a steep grey roof. Going along with the fairytale theme, it looks like a small cottage with a short picket fence extending from its side.

Inside, the air smells of old envelopes, printed paper, and dust. And it's toasty. Two windows on the right illuminate the cluttered room. Between them is an oak shelving unit overflowing with shirts, mugs, tumblers, and snow globes. In front of the shelves is a well-crafted hardwood counter with a showcase containing piles of magazines. On my way to the main desk at the back, I look at some greeting cards, pamphlets, and postcards. They're all crammed into rotating and standing displays placed on the left side of the room.

A repeated postcard illustrates the clocktower and says, "Greetings from Storybrooke, Maine."

Another card says, "Storybrooke, where time stands still."

The quote appears on most of the merchandise.

"Where time stands still."

Henry said something about time freezing. Yeah. Because of a curse.

Movement comes from the back, and I lean to get a glimpse of who it is since a tall, wide greeting card display presses against the counter, obscuring my view. Behind the desk is a scattered, older gentleman who murmurs to himself, stuffing, sealing, and slotting envelopes.

"Uh... Hello?" I say.

He stops his actions and stares at me. When he unfreezes, he picks up a wired phone and dials a number in a frenzy. "Madame Mayor. There's someone new in Storybrooke. What should I do?" he says, looking at me. "No, I'm not crying wolf again."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, God, she's talking to me." And I thought Henry was weird.

"Are you someone I can talk to about visitors' information?"

He grips the phone with both hands, pressing it into his face. "Madame Mayor, what do I do? The border was supposed to prevent this from happening again."

I walk to the desk and take a map from the giant display. "I'm going now."

"I'm telling the truth," he says into the phone. "The only way is if she's one of us."

"Bye," I say, taking long steps toward the door.

He hangs up, and, assuming he's back to normal, I drop my guard and head to leave.

"Stop right there."

I glance over my shoulder and do a double take when I find him aiming a brass pistol at me. I face him and throw my hands up. "Holy crap, dude."

"Stay right there."

"What the actual hell, man?"

"You're not going anywhere. The Sheriff will be here any minute."

"The Sheriff? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't move."

"Do I look like I'm moving?"