Despite the massive size, I pushed open the door to the Chamber Of Memories effortlessly. The chamber had an endless array of memories in the shape of glass plaques arranged of wooden shelves up to the ceiling.
I wasn't alone. As a matter of fact, there were quite number of people - some familiar, others not. Everyone was there for the same reason, to search for old memories.
I walked to the aisles looking for my shelf of long forgotten memories when I passed by my mother who was holding her memory plaque. The glass plate in her hand was playing the memory of her wedding night. I glanced at the plate and saw her and my grandfather dancing together. She must miss him a lot.
As I headed towards my shelf, I passed by people crying over lovers, men crying over lost opportunities and other crying over a better past. I was there look back at memories too but I promised myself that I wasn't going to be like them. I won't be going to ponder over regret, I wasn't going to cry.
I reached my shelf pulled out the plate of memory I loved the most. It played the memory when I was thirteen, the year I found the best gifts of life - experience and friendship. I looked at the plate and smiled. My story was as if it was out of novel, an unexpected friendship and life lessons.
I took a seat, thinking that it was fine to spend some time lingering with flashbacks. I watched the moments I missed so much play in front of my eyes. I smiled and laughed looking at my friends and I. We called our little girls group F2de which means Friend To The End. Ah, those were the days.
And suddenly, the plate played an image of me and her drifting apart, going different ways. Then, images of us trying to stitch things back to the way they were followed by the images of falling apart again and again. Time after time, our conversations were based on the guilt we had towards each other instead of pure longing to talk and spend time together.
I did not bear to watch things changes, so I pressed rewind. The better times were on replay - The times when I was her crying shoulder, when we had late night talks, when we were in trouble together and when she had all the answers to my questions.
While I sat there, my mind drifted to thought that wondered; what if things never changed? What if we never gave up trying to patch things up?
Suddenly, I was pushed to the wall and my plaque was taken away. I was stunned. It was my best friend; it was years since we last met. My plaque was in her hands and when I looked at her face, she wore an emotion I couldn't define. I didn't understand what she was doing until someone else came along and she handed my plaque to the other girl - her new best friend.
I watched two of them walk away with what once was mine. They altered the plaque, making it theirs, leaving me with nothing left. I sat there powerless, unable to do anything but watch them leave. The moment I treasured most were no longer mine.
YOU ARE READING
CHAMBER OF MEMORIES
Любовные романыThe act of arranging short fictional bursts of emotion to serve the purpose of homes; as a shelter for the lost and lonely. And to those who call themselves the happy ones, Nice try, but we know the truth.