Vicious Memories

Chapter 1

"Who are we but the sum of our memories?" - Unknown

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I had failed again, and I woke up drowning.

Towering waves crashed over my head. Watery claws pulled me down into darkness. I fought back, reaching for the freedom above me until, with an incredible roar, the water withdrew and my head broke the surface.

I coughed violently and fought to free myself from an icy panic. Liquid came out of my lungs in spurts, then all at once, and I drew in my first heaving breath since waking up. Air came in hot and harsh.

I scrubbed the salt from my lashes and opened my eyes.

"What the hell...?"

If you've ever woken from a dream in the middle of the night unsure of where, when, or even who you are for a few seconds, you will understand some small fraction of what I felt at that moment. I expected my disoriented feeling to go away, to vanish like a bad memory, but it refused to let go.

I stumbled forward and tried to figure out where I was.

It took me a few seconds, but eventually I came to the right conclusion.

I don't know.

Thinking hard, I didn't even know how I'd gotten here, let alone where here was. The realization was a sledgehammer against my chest.

"Okay, okay. No need to panic, Ollie," I muttered.

Ollie, I repeated in my head. Oliver. My name is Oliver.

I finally staggered completely out of the water. Sand squished beneath my bare toes like coarse mud. I trudged forward, taking each step carefully, soaked to the core. Free of the waves eating away at the beach, I managed to look up.

Where are you? I asked myself.

The sight that greeted me threatened to knock me back off my feet.

The sun reached through a thin layer of clouds to cast eerie yellow light onto the world. Pristine white sand stretched off in either direction, unmarked by chairs, umbrellas, or even footprints. Directly ahead, perhaps 100 feet in front of me, a straight, unbroken line of trees rose out of the dirt that took over at the edge of the beach, towering above everything like a row of sentinels blocking the way forward. My gaze flashed above them, searching for hotels, houses, any sort of man-made structure.

Nothing.

I turned left, straining to see down the beach, but it curved away inland. In the other direction, the sand stretched on to infinity.

"How did I get here?"

First things first, I had to remember where I was and what was going on. Did I get hit in the head? Knocked out?

A boat, I thought, a boat must have dropped me here. For a brief moment I was taken aback at how turquoise and clear the water was, but that feeling was immediately overshadowed by the lack of boats visible between the shore and the horizon.

Okay, I thought. There has to be a logical explanation for this. If I can't remember how I got here, what is the last thing I can remember?

I thought back. Nothing from earlier in the day. Nothing from yesterday, either. Or... or the day before. Or the day before that. I cast farther and farther back, a fisherman trying his luck in an empty lake.

A small lament escaped my lips.

What did I know? My name: Oliver. That I was here, on what seemed to be an island or deserted coast, in front of what seemed to be an ocean. That I was here to do something? For some important reason? To help someone?