In the debris of a broken city, what retains its gleam when memories become the only polished fragments?
Fourteen-year-old Lily aspires to attain a higher status in a society dictated by the smudged patterns of "Wogy-Wdy's" beauty products. The prom...
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Darkness descended from the sky downwards; it obscured everything except a solitary rectangle of light—glowing from a digital video camera. Soft, not-yet-adult fingers pushed a tape into place. Then, they stretched to the button.
-PLAY-
Adult hands, dusted with white flour, kneaded dough. Over the edge of the table, little round eyes peeked out.
"Mama, bread."
"Yes, Lily. Mama's baking bread. Will my sweetie help mama bake bread?"
The light breezes that cooled the day's heat found the way to the front of Lily's wavy hair strands. The rest tangled between her fingers, forming a loosely chestnut braid.
"This is my fork! the lion fork is mine! Give it to me!"
"No! I took it first. Use the giraffe spoon!"
Siblings' innocent arguments fell behind their remaining childhood. Their childhood, untouched by the passage of time, left Lily to grow up on her own, forgetting that she needed to argue with them as much as they did.
"Enough you two," a rough voice barged in and scolded the kids. "Everyone will get a fork."
A shiver ran down Lily's spine, and goosebumps rose; not because the warmth of the sun had been stolen by the sunset. She rolled down the folded sleeves of her beige shirt and buttoned them around her wrists.
An old man patted his lap, "Give grandpa a kiss."
Upon seeing her grandfather a knot swelled in her throat. He was the only one among them fortunate enough to meet his grandchildren.
"What about Auntie?" Sweet kisses rained down on her too, captured by the lens that never reflected them again.
It was thanks to this lens that Lily had a clear recollection of their faces; had she relied on her distant memories she would have forgotten.
-STOP-
She turned her sight away from the artificial light. A field of stars reflected in her warm hazel eyes.
The full moon cast blue hues across the vast, remote landscape. A dry, cracked patch of ground between two banks was the last sign of the wide river. Its waters now flowed in the mind of the last one who'd stayed and remembered. Randomly scattered rocks of various sizes littered the terrain as the hand of time slowly tumbled them down the slopes.
