Odd Future

Memories That Cut Deepest

Someone else's memories ran like a vintage film reel in my head even in the still darkness of unconsciousness. Alice. Her first memory was of a woman she never knew; it came in a shower of colors akin to a firework and painted my heart with feelings of safety and comfort. Her mother, I assumed. As the reel continued her image died away and she never showed again, instead, Lucia took her place. We have that in common; the sting of abandonment soothed with the love of a foster parent. Tears filled my eyes, but I couldn't wipe them away or ignore them.

I watched for what felt like hours on a constant loop with no sound or color as Alice grew before me. She had few close friends, mostly from the orphanage she was raised in, Coral House, and often went to see a local mage with a pet slime. Her life was exciting, more than mine, but at age ten her memories faded. Her last one was the day I came. She was resting out on the dock before dinner, staring out at the sea before her memories ended in a burst of white. Then, the loop began again.

What did it mean? Was I reincarnated as Alice? It felt so real. I somehow absorbed her memories and took over her body. But she wasn't absent from me; we were one. She was deep inside me, somewhere in my soul. The fear and confusion we felt were massive, but there was also something else; an aroma. It smelled savory like cooked meat; warm and mouthwatering. My eyes opened and for a moment, I laid in bed tired and sore. Where am I?

I groaned as I eased into a sitting position. My head didn't hurt as much as before – thank goodness – but a tender pain stung the back of my head and eyes as I looked around the room I woke up in.

The brick walls were an old beige color, bare as far as I could tell with round and narrow gothic-styled windows allowing natural light into the room. There was a 4-shelf bookcase to my right next to a door carved from hickory and stained dark. A set of six beds lined the walls, three on one wall and three on the opposite, with mine being the one closest to the door. It was a plain bedroom, but from it, I felt a sense of warmth.

There was nothing more to take into account, other than a chair beside my bed with a bowl of hot stew resting on it; the source of the aroma. My mouth watered as I stared at it, choosing to eat. I hadn't eaten in who knows how long; floating in the darkness gave no indication of time. Setting my feet on the icy floor I swayed as I stood. Damn. I'm still light-headed. I sat back on the edge of the bed, taking an uneasy breath. Perhaps I got up too fast.

The hickory door opened suddenly and Lucia walked in carrying an enamel washbasin. Her eyes widened then narrowed in relief.

"I'm so glad that you've woken, my dear. You gave me a fright," she said with a smile.

My heart swelled with joy. Lucia meant a lot to Alice; I felt her love.

"I didn't mean to worry you," I retorted.

Lucia laughed and brought the basin over to the bed, setting it on the floor. She leaned up with a grunt and glanced at the bowl on the chair, resting her hands on her hips.

"Now that's a bit worrying. You love my stew," she mentioned.

Alice agreed.

"I'm light-headed," I admitted. "But I am hungry."

Lucia hummed, bringing the bowl to me. I thanked her and ate in silence as she moved the chair closer, using a rag and warm water to clean my feet.

"I'm always telling you to wear something on your feet if you plan to go outside, but you never listen to me," Lucia scolded me.

My face heated up in embarrassment. She reminded me of my foster parent, Ann. The said woman was nice, but always quick to scold me for not listening to her. Alice must have been a wild child like me. I smiled. Ann was a great parent; a bit too nit-picky at times, but she meant a lot to me. I missed her.