Silence

Chapter Two - Memory Rift

"Many things are not as they seem: The worst things in life never are." 
― Jim Butcher, White Night 

Chapter Two - Memory Rift

"You certainly have a way with words, young master Pierce." The old butler smiled as he handed back the boy's notebook.

"Mmm," Jaron murmured, eyes on his feet. Jaron was the type of person who usually always knew what to say. Well at the very least he knew what words to use. There's a difference. Words were always clutched between his lips, an infinity of combinations. The whole of civilisation hidden behind his teeth. Letters flowed like blood in his veins. Anything that could ever be said, the dialogue of the universe, all at his disposal. 

Jaron wasn't one to over talk so it was only really evident in his writing. His teachers had always commented on his impeccable choice of words. But, since a few weeks ago, he hadn't been able to choose any of them. 

Let it be noted that Jaron wasn't the diary keeping type (he insisted constantly that "its called a journal and plenty of very reputable people recommend them"). He simply liked to keep a record of what he was thinking. Maybe it was in case he became someone of importance and his childhood memoirs would be worth something, not that he ever desired to share what he wrote, or ever intended to become a person people would care enough to read about. Jaron wasn't sure of the exact reason; it was sort of more of an impulse. But recently this inexplicable feeling that he had forgotten something had overshadowed his general everyday thoughts.

He couldn't exactly describe it, and that's why it irritated him. Jaron had tried tirelessly to ink it down, to find some words that could accurately represent at least a part of whatever was keeping him up till 3am, lost in some half sleep with weird shadows and torturous screaming. He had no clue why this thing was bothering him. He had had bad dreams before, certainly not as realistic or haunting, but, then again, there was a first time for everything. 

Ignoring the puzzled look on his butler's face, Jaron traipsed out of the room, still deep in thought. His feet carried him instinctively back to his bedroom where he had been hiding out for the past few days. He placed his notebook on his desk, smoothing the cover delicately under his fingertips. He made his way back over to the entrance of his room, pressed his back to the door and slide down to the ground as it closed.

As the rest of the world faded to the back of his mind, Jaron's thoughts drifted to the niggling little blank in his head. Over the past few days he had sat in his room trying to pull something out of this gaping hole in his memory. But it wasn't so much as a block, a wall stopping him accessing memories or thoughts; it was more of a gap. A void between thoughts where nothing seemed to happen and yet Jaron felt that something important had gotten lost in this memory black hole.

It was hours later when his butler found him in the same spot staring at a wall, totally spaced out. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you do seem a tad distracted. Is everything okay?"

"Hmm" Jaron looked up "Did you say something, Jeffery?"

The old man sighed, "are you okay? I've noticed you seem a little," he paused, "out of it."

"I don't know," said Jaron, more to himself than anybody, "it's... it's not really something I want to talk about. Don't worry about it!"

"You might be able to think clearer if you talk to someone."

"I said it's fine, just, please leave me alone for a bit. I just need some time to think"

Jeffery looked like he wanted to ask further, to ask what Jaron needed time to think about. Instead however, he just let it drop, like a marble to the floor. "Well okay. Dinner will be ready shortly. It's your favourite..." But Jeffery could tell he had already lost the boy's interest.