Writer Games: Amnesia

Quarterfinals - Real or Not Real? - Entries

Solar Dedisco
Solar hated the human memory.

He found it easy to remember everything that had ever happened to him, relying on it to keep him going. If he was having a bad day, he only had to recall the idea of a time when he was happy and then the faintest of smiles would overtake his bad mood. However, nothing buried within the depths of his overcrowded memory could retrieve him from the darkness he was feeling whilst trapped in the arena.
Solar had witnessed too much to conquer it with a simple memory. Even just a few hours earlier, he had witnessed a ruthless death. He needed something real, something in front of him that he could touch in order to tempt a smile back onto his broken face. Instead, the only thing that he had left was his mind.

His mind was what kept betraying him. Whilst he could remember everything he had seen within the arena, the events would continue to haunt him. His only option was to try to think back, remembering what awaited him back in District Five. Those memories were hazy, overshadowed.

If Solar tried his hardest, he could conjure up the image of a young boy. He felt a strong connection to the boy's youthful features even if he could not remember his name. Solar was certain they were related; it was simply the nightmares of the arena that prevented him from remembering.

The boy was the person that made Solar long to go home. Whoever he was, Solar knew that he was waiting back in District Five to give him one more hug.

He had to be real; he could not just be a false memory. Solar could remember the boy waiting for him to play on the streets, remembering the times when he burst into tears when Solar did not want to play. Solar could even remember the boy growing up, his first words, his first time playing outside the confines of his own home.

What if that growing up stopped?

Solar's memories were all becoming tainted by death. He could envision the boy waiting for him, still growing just like any normal child, but anything could go wrong. Solar could do nothing but watch as the boy was followed by a cloaked figure, its scythe crusted with stale crimson blood. The figure did not speak; its breath was as cold as ice.

Solar wanted to scream, trying to fight against his own memories but knowing that his mind was far too determined to torture him. There was no escape from his memories, especially if as they became cold and twisted. The boy that Solar was certain he loved met the same fate at many of the tributes and Solar could do nothing but watch.

His memory would not be safe as long as Death stalked its confines.

Collin Messanda
I can't bring myself to look at the projection, the fallen tributes. One of them I killed, one of them I tried to protect. Zach is dead. The realization hits me again and again, worse than before, as if I'll never get used to it. But I have to. I have to grow up. I'm on my own now. Six more people left until I can get out of this hell and go home. Wherever home is...

I finally bring myself to look up just as the District Four girl's face disappears from the wall. District Four...the district Zach was from.

Everything seems slow nowadays, I can't seem to do anything without stopping for a moment and asking if what I'm doing is right. Now that Zach is gone, I'm different.

My mind then wanders to that strange hallucination I had a couple days ago. With the family eating at the table. I feel some strong connection every time I think of it. Especially the mother. And the card I happened to have with me when this all started. There is a connection, I just know it.

As I think of the hallucination more, it almost seems to come to life around me. The dull, white walls of the hospital transform into the cheerful yellow wallpaper of the room in the hallucination. I can't call it a hallucination anymore, it's too vivid and real. I think it's a memory.