In the heart of a forgotten realm lies Sans, a humble farmer tending to her crops under the shadow of a mysterious curse. Each dawn, she awakens with no recollection of her past, her memories stolen by the malevolent forces known only as the Possess...
Hi everyone! Please like, comment, and subscribe to this novel. I previously wrote a novel titled "Blue Daffodils," but due to a lack of planning, I lost insight into how I could end the novel. Hence, this time around, I have finished writing the story, which involves tragedy (Apologies, I love a sad ending). I might change the ending depending on the comments stated here.
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"You need this peace."
"Who are you to decide what's good for me?"
"Because I'm the only one who cares."
Sans woke up abruptly, her shirt drenched with sweat. The oppressive summer heat permeated even the midnight air, casting shadows over her small, dilapidated house.
Lately, she'd been plagued by vivid dreams, disrupting her already tenuous sleep. Sans struggled to discern their reality, unsure if they were mere figments of her imagination. All she knew was that her insomnia worsened, driving her to seek medical help. But doing so meant balancing her dwindling finances against her pressing need for care.
Gazing out over her modest farm, shrouded in darkness, Sans awaited the faint glimmer of dawn. Soon, the clinic would open its doors.
Draping herself in whatever clothing she could find, Sans trudged wearily to the clinic, her steps heavy with exhaustion. Sleep had eluded her for too long, a fact that consumed her thoughts as she joined the queue of early risers.
As usual, the clinic opened promptly at 8 am, and Sans registered herself for an appointment. Before long, her name was called, and she entered the examination room.
"Good morning, Ms. Sans."
"Morning."
Sans was a woman of few words, preferring solitude in this small town and speaking only when necessary. Yet, her reserved nature didn't equate to rudeness; rather, she simply adhered to social norms with brevity.
"How can I assist you? Are you adjusting to life here?"
"I'm exhausted. Can't sleep. Having recurring dreams."
"Hm. What kind of dreams?"
Sans hesitated, her thoughts veering into an uncomfortable silence as the doctor patiently awaited her response.
"It's alright if you're unable to share, Ms. Sans. How are your neighbors?"
"They're fine. Treat me well."
"That's good. We've recently received additional funding for counseling services. Would you like a referral? There's no obligation, but talking about your dreams might improve your sleep."
Sans considered the offer, mindful of her financial constraints.
"Thank you, doctor. Not at the moment."
The doctor nodded understandingly.
"Very well. Let me know if you change your mind. Counseling fees start at $20, but financial aid is available if needed."
"Thank you."
"I'll prescribe some sleeping pills. Start with one tablet a day, taken 2-3 hours before bedtime. If you experience any adverse effects or no improvement, please return for further evaluation."
"Thank you, doctor."
Sans collected her medication and counted her funds, relieved to find she had enough. Government subsidies should cover her prescription as well.
"Ms. Sans!"
"Coming."
"Here's your medication. Start with one tablet daily and let us know if it helps."
"Alright."
"And it's good to see you making progress in our town."
"Thank you."
"Feel free to reach out if you need anything. We're all here for you."
The receptionist's sympathetic gaze lingered on Sans, who acknowledged it with a respectful nod before departing for home.
En route, nods and smiles from elderly residents warmed Sans's heart, a reminder of the community's watchful care. Grateful yet wary of attention, she yearned for normalcy amidst her daily struggles.
As she glanced at the morning sky, peculiar cracks marred the once pristine atmosphere, triggering a dizzying sensation. Another vision assailed her, its unsettling words echoing in her mind.
"When will this end? I'm tired."
"Don't worry. I'll make it all go away."
Before she could grasp the meaning, darkness enveloped her, and she collapsed.
Sans awoke in the hospital, an IV drip tethered to her arm. Dr. Wil, a familiar face, approached her bedside.
"Hello, Sans. It's been some time."
"Hello, Dr. Wil."
"How are you feeling now?"
"Better, thank you."
"No work for three days. Rest and recuperate. Your lack of sleep likely contributed to your fainting spell."
"I understand."
"Did you experience any hallucinations before fainting?"
"Perhaps. I saw... cracks in the sky, felt intense heat, and another vision."
"I see. Rest assured, once you've rested, these symptoms should subside."
"Thank you."
"You gave us quite a scare by the riverbank. Nearly crossed over to the other side."
"I see."
"Have you recalled any memories in the past six months?"
Sans pondered, uncertain if her visions constituted memories or mere figments.
"I don't believe so."
"Do you feel compelled to remember your past?"
Sans contemplated, struck by her lack of curiosity about her own history.
Six months prior, she'd awakened in this very hospital, a stranger to herself and the town. Despite exhaustive efforts, her past remained elusive, leaving her with only the name "Sans" as an anchor to her identity. Diagnosed as a victim of amnesia, she existed in a void of memories, devoid of kin or connection.
And yet, she harbored no desire to reclaim what was lost—a peculiar absence of self-inquiry amidst the fog of forgetfulness.
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