Memories are supposed to be special. They're supposed to be held close to their heart. The chip on my wrist says that memories are something remembered from the past, a recollection. I wouldn't know though.
Why do I have a chip on my wrist? Why am I trudging through the mud to salvage what appears to be left of a burned down apartment? It's fuzzy to put it nicely. Three years ago, I woke up. On a bus to California. At least, at the time it looked like California.
I didn't know where I was going or how I got there. The only thing in my head was my name, Heti, and the image of black gloved scientist with a syringe. The bus was for gifted children, those who had abilities. Those scientists wanted to run an experiment. They put us on another planet to test how long gifted children can last. I didn't know if I had a family, if I had friends, all I knew was that I needed to survive.
YOU ARE READING
FLAMES | A Tale About The Survival of The Fittest
Acción" I had only one thought in my mind. I am a survivor. I was suddenly at surface level. My hands acted on a mind of my own and shot a wall of fire towards Reana. The weird thing is, she didn't move. Her eyes were full of agony as the bright light die...
