Your earliest memories define you.
That's what I've always believed. My earliest memories are of my now dead mother. I see them a lot, when I'm laying in bed and can't sleep. Some of my favourite memories.
In these memories, I'd be laying in bed, the same bed I have now. The house was warm when my mother was alive, almost as if her existence was what made it warm. There was a soft glow from my nightlight, and my mother would be sitting by my feet, telling the tales of the Daekmalenti, ancient warriors, as old as time, and with the powers of the five elements.
Earth. Water. Fire. Air. Snow.
She would tell me stories of a girl named Cassie, my mother's name. Of course she put herself in the story. The Cassie of the stories was kind, compassionate, brave, just like my mother.
The only difference was Cassie could control plants and nature itself, and my mother could not. Cassie could make plants spring from the ground and destroy buildings with earthquakes, if she wished. Earth was her specialty, although she'd been able to control the other elements, too.
My mother also told me of Major, the man in charge of the camp where the Daekmalenti lived. An old and grumpy but loveable and honourable man, with a spark in his eyes and fire in his soul. He was devoted to protecting humanity, with every fibre of his being. He'd always be the first to talk to the younger Daekmalenti, who'd just arrived after discovering their powers. He'd kneel down so he was eye level with the children, place his hands on their shoulders, and tell them they were safe there, nothing would hurt them. He was their granddaddy now, and he'd protect everyone in this camp and on this planet with everything it took.
My older brother, Ashton, would always be there, leaning against the doorframe, as our mother told me of Major. Of course, Major wasn't Major's actual name. I used to ask, and Ashton would come over, sit down, and smile fondly.
"He never told anyone his real name, Little Aria."
Sometimes, when our mother was busy, Ashton would tell me stories of Major. He'd reach out for my tiny little hand stroking it fondly as a wistful look crossed his face, as if he was remembering something. That was one of the best things about the stories, the way they told them, almost as if they were recounting memories, talking of old friends, especially Ashton.
Eventually, we would always get to the part where Major died. He had a simple funeral, and a humble grave, just his style. Cassie would finish her training after that, and she'd meet a human named Jacob, my father's name, and they would settle down and have two children. First Ashton, then Aria, that's me.
Whenever I would ask if the stories were real, they would always chuckle and point at my golden baby bracelet, telling me that my bracelet was what kept my powers under control, and I shouldn't take it off unless I needed to use my powers. I'd giggle back, believing them.
Unfortunately, things didn't stay that way. When I was eight years old, my mother was killed in a terrorist attack. She'd gone to the states to visit an old friend, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A week later, Ashton ran away. A few months later, he was presumed dead, and they stopped looking for him. We buried an empty coffin, right next to the one with my mum in it.
Just like that, all the warmth left. Our house got cold, it was no longer home. Dad always blamed himself. He turned to drinking, and I don't blame him. He lost his wife and child in the same week. With him being either too drunk or too asleep to help me with anything, I had to learn to fend for myself. It didn't help that I've always been labeled the weirdo at school, for some reason. I've learnt to be alone, now. I trust myself and myself only. I need myself and myself only. Nobody else will ever help me.
So when I can't sleep, I remember a time when the house was warm, when our house was a home. When I had mum and Ashton and my name was Little Aria and everything had a soft and hazy glow.
Your earliest memories define who you are, I believe that now more than ever.
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Hey everyone, Des here. I decided to edit my story from my other account and put it on here, where I'll be more active. I'm hoping to completely transform it, and make it way better than the old version (I'm also liking the new cover and title, I think it suits it).
Anyway, if you like the story so far (I know there's not much up yet but bear with me) please vote!
Question of the chapter: If you had to choose one place to go on vacation to every year for the rest of your life, which place would you pick and why?
I think I'd pick NYC because it's such a cool city and you'd probably never run out of things to do.
(in new york you can be a new man)
in new york you can be a new man
in NEW YORK YOU CAN be a NEW MAN
IN NEW YOOOOOOOORK
Yeah okay, I'll stop now. Please comment your answers!
-Des
YOU ARE READING
Little Aria
FantasíaWhen your mother tells you bedtime stories, you don't expect them to come true, and missing-and-maybe-still-alive-but-presumed-dead brothers don't just return out of the blue, but with the fate of humanity resting on the shoulders of her and the oth...