Forgotten memories

A Dark Memory

Above we have Jennifer Aniston as Rose's mom and Nina Dobrev as cheerleader Alex Morgan. I'm still figuring out who I want to cast as Page, any suggestions? If so, comment on here or message me!

It wasn't a dream: I wasn't asleep. Almost, but not quite.

There, in that space between resting and sleeping, the image slammed into my head like a freight train. Now I'm sitting straight up, blinking furiously to try and adjust my eyes more quickly. I start to breathe heavily, and sweat.

Like that gory photo in my Anatomy book that I'll soon see in a few months and can't stop thinking about, the memory won't go away.

I take at least five deep, calming breaths, maybe more. I then identify every dark shape in my room as nonthreatening. After I calmed down a bit, I burrow back inside the still-warm cocoon between two oversized pillows at the top of my bed.

I pull the blankets up to my chin and blink into the pitch black room.

And suddenly, I'm in a cementary. I'm at a funeral, at least I think I am. I don't understand the scene, but it makes me feel heavy just the same.

And alone...And afraid.

It's obvious that the mourners today triggered this particular memory.

I remember forward, and forget backwards.

So like it or not - and like it I don't - I will remember standing in the grass with the black figures surrounding a stone. I will remember the funeral until it happens, until someone dies..

And after that, it will all be forgotten.

~*~*~*~*~*

I'm early to study hall.

This must be out of character for me, because Ms. Mason is eyeing me like I'm something disgusting. More students arrive. I take out my calculus textbook and workbook from my bag, as well as my red mechanical pencil. Luckily, none of the other students sit at my table, so I'm able to spread my things out.

"We meet again," says a smooth male voice. I figure he's talking to someone at the next table, but I look up from my homework anyways.

Then I suck in my breath.

The boy standing there across the table, looking like he's going to sit down with me...is flat out gorgeous.

"Hi?" Is say more as a question than a greeting.

"I didn't know you had study hall this period," the boy says, casually dropping his bag onto a chair and pulling out the one beside it. He sits down, his eyes never leaving mine.

Do I know him?

"Obviously," I say back , which comes out sounding kinda snippy.

Am I in the right place?

I scan the faces of my classmates, Andy Bernstein, check. Hannah Wright, check.

Tomorrow is Wednesday, so today is Tuesday, check.

Second period? Yep, just has PE.

"....Because after the fire drill I had to finish orientation, and it took up all of second period, too. But you weren't here yesterday. Where were you?"

I'm tapping my pencil on my notebook now. This conversation is really making me anxious. I think back to my notes before answering.

"At a doctors appoinment," I said.

"Oh sorry," the boy says, glancing down at the table for a split second before making his way back to me. "I didn't mean to pry,"

He's embarrassed. It's cute.

"It's okay," I say, still tapping my pencil. "I tripped over a ball in gym. My mom thought my ankle was sprained,"

"Was it?"

"Nope, just bruised,"

I'm tapping faster now, as he's looking right at me. Right into me.

Seriously, do I know him?

"That's good," he says. the bell rings and we just sit there staring at each other, he looks amused and I probably look like I'm going to explode. That's how I feel anyways.

"You ok?" He's asks, with a slight nod in the direction of my furious pencil tapping. The acknowledgment of my nervous energy soon makes me fumble; I lose my grip, the pencil launches into the air and lands onto the floor. Feeling my cheeks burn up and feeling like an idiot, I scoot back in my chair and bend over to retrieve it. I grab my pencil, and then spy something interesting.

White converse all stars.

My heart leaps as I remember my mornings note.

This boy is my creeper according to Lydia.

My creeper is hot.

Se how I manage to sit up without completely humiliating myself. I smile at him. He smiles back, I smile more.

"So, you stole my jacket, you know" he says with a glint in his eyes. "you can borrow it for a while as long as you..."

"Shhhh!" Evil eye Mason interrupts with a sharp whisper before from her perch.

"....Promise to....." he attempts to continue in a whisper before Ms. Mason smacks her palm on her desk.

"Mr. Henry!" She shouts. His mouth slams shut as he slowly turns towards her. I'm happy to know at least part of his name.

"Sorry," he says.

"I should hope so. You're new, so I'll give you a pass this one time. But understand, there is no talking in my class. This is time for studying. Quietly. This is not social hour."

"Sorry," he says again as he pulls out as sketchbook and some charcoal pencils from his bag.

I'm happy for the information I'm getting. His last name is Henry. He's new to my school. And he's an artist.

He's smiles at me as he starts to draw on his page. We give a few glances here and there as I'm forced to do my homework in silence. But halfway through number 3, I think about how the boys jacket in my room has to be the one he was talking about. Apparently it's not from the reject pile like my note had said. So apparently I lied.

~*~*~*~*~*

At midnight, I boot up my laptop. I can type faster than I can scribble. Besides, the notes from my bedside is already too cluttered with hearts in the margins and flowery words about the boy I just met today.

10/19 (Tues.)

Horrible memory popped into my head as I was falling asleep tonight. Worst I can remember, really. Can't see much, I just know that I'm in a crowd of people wearing all black. Someone is dead. I thought it might be Moms funeral, but I remember hearing her sobs. She's there too, alive. I think it's morning but it's gray so
I'm not sure.
Terrifying statue of a saintly woman (maybe an angel?) over to the left.

I finish typing and save the file on my computer desk top, naming it, appropriately, Dark memory.

I print the page and then place it under the handwritten one.

I climb back into bed and turn off the lights for the second time tonight, thinking of the boy whose first name I don't know.

Somehow, through all my overwhelming emotions, sleeps grabs me and pulls me under.

And then everything unwritten is gone.

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