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Lost Memories

Fantasy

I step back from the light. I stand there, coughing of not being able to breathe properly. The light disappears and in it’s place is the lost book. I go forward to grab it, but it disappears. I yell in frustration. I was so close! So close of having...

Epilouge

6 0 0

by Faction12and3Quarter

Dedicated to welliwritestuff

by Faction12and3Quarter

                                    
                                              EPILOUGE
                          Blue plus yellow equals green plus purple is… most likely brown. I look in the textbook. Brown is the cure for the disease. I pour the stuff in and wait for it to turn brown. Then I add some herbs and voila! The cure for pneumonia! It sounds impossible but still. I slip it into a vial and stare at the sluggish, mud-like liquid inside. I’ve become a master at Herbo-
                          BOOM. 

                          Or maybe not. The entire class looked back at me. I coughed; the soot of the explosion came out of my mouth. My lab partner – a girl in my class laughed at my ash-covered face. I slowly take off my goggles and set them on the table.
                          I am training to be an agent. My next class is Combat. I walk down the dungeons and out the back door, hoping to get there earlier to practice more.
                          I arrive just as planned. I change from the lab coat into my combat uniform and boots. I take a sword out of its sheath and hold it in front of me. I attack the dummies around me when they appear. They are not self-automatic so someone must have set them on me. I chop one’s head off, skewer one in the stomach, and cut one directly in half.
                          My favorite part of these dummies is that when you wound an essential part of the body, they squirt out red liquid. It’s actually real blood. The Zombie and Feral blood.  
                          When I finish, I hear clapping behind me. It’s my brother. He came here last year after I died; told me it was too much for him to handle. Mom came over sometimes when Ron was still alive. Dad still ignored mom and she was desperate for attention. Our step-mother, Inga, was as horrible as usual, most likely because mom was there.
                          Julie celebrated her 8th birthday last year, so that means I have been here for at least two years. Two more years of training and then me and my brother can become agents.
                          Two more years and I can be free.
                          Two more years of torture.
                          Most importantly, two years have past, and I now have all of my lost memories.
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                          AAAND DONE! 
                          ITS DONE.
                          FINITO.
                          ERLEDIGT.
                          FINI. 
                          FATTO.
                          IT. IS. DONE. 
                          Sorry, Gemma, I couldn't be botheres to write any more. ^^
                          ITS 3:44 AM AND I AMD DEAD TIRED PLUS A MATH TEST TOMORROW AND A PEER-EDITING REVIEW FOR THIS STORY. I AM SCREWED.