Fallen Memories

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Boy with missing identity.

It seemed like he had been running for hours, like he had been going nowhere. He didn’t remember anything; who he was, where he came from, or what his purpose was. Finally, he saw a light up ahead, and decided he had no choice but to run toward it, hoping some answers would lie ahead, hoping whoever was chasing him wouldn’t be able to penetrate the light. So he paced forward, running full speed into whatever awaited him. 

He stepped through, and almost instantaneously, stopped in his tracks. The scenery had changed so drastically he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a little house, with old, exotic carpet and wind chimes everywhere. He felt as if he knew this place before, but he just couldn’t place it. There was some kind of mysterious air surrounding this house. The antiques hanging on the dark green walls, and the empty bird cages. Whoever lives, or did live here sure was an eclectic person. He wandered around some more, and, only after backing into a wall, did he realize where he was. He had backed into a picture of his dear sweet grandmother, grandma Aggy. He didn’t remember much about her, just that she was an old, strange woman. But what could he say, he loved her either way. He also remembered that she was dead, but couldn’t quite remember the cause. He tried to remember what had killed her. And then PPINNNGGG! He heard a loud screeching noise and saw a huge flash of light. He looked around but nothing had changed. He thought he was dreaming, but really, he wished all of this was a dream. Not knowing anything about himself was starting to get very depressing. 

After deciding that staying in the house wasn’t going to help anymore, he reluctantly stepped back outside, where hopefully his pursuers hadn’t returned. But it was just then he realized that the entire scene around him had just changed. Surrounding him was pure, luminescent white light, awe inspiring him. They almost seemed like panels, flipping back and forth, each one seeming to get brighter than the next. He walked up to one side and went to put his hand on the panel, but immediately felt a shock and moved away. Just then he saw another flash of light and heard another loud screeching noise. When he opened his eyes he saw a picture on the panel, almost like a little movie projector. It was portraying two people. One was a tall, burly, rugged looking man. The other, a voluptuous young lady with long brown hair. They were crying, about what he didn’t know. The longer he watched them, the more hysterical they seemed to be. It then occurred to him that he recognized these people, but the moment it got on the tip of his tongue, it fell right back down to the bottom of his stomach. He was really getting fed up with all this. He just wanted to go home, wherever home was. Just then he looked to his right and saw a door. It was just as bright and blinding as everything else in the room, so it’s no wonder he missed it before. On the door, in cryptic, faded text, read the words, “Fallen Memories”. He was afraid of what might lie ahead, but he had no other choice. Once inside, he immediately had a strange feeling. He was uneasy, but just like a recurring theme, he didn’t know why. This room was pitch dark, the only thing he could see was the hands in front of him. Before he could think of anything else, a white rectangular shape appeared in the center of the room. On it, it was the same two people he saw before. But this time, they were in formal wear, and appeared to be at a gravesite of some sort. They were mourning the loss of, what he had to assume was their child. On the headstone it said, “Here lies Aggy Christenson. Devoted wife and mother.” He then realized that those two distraught figures were his parents. 

Before he could see more the lights went off and he was alone again. After another loud screech and bright light, he found himself back in grandma Aggy’s house. Before he had time to even process what had happened, he heard a creak coming from the door. The creak turned into a knock, and the knock turned into a slam. Someone was trying to break in! But something was different about this house. This time, the door of the house was clear as diamond. He could see exactly who had been chasing him before. He was horrified as to who he saw. He scurried around, looking for a back door or some kind of escape route, but couldn’t. He started to panic, fearful of whatever was going to come next. He just wished all the pain would go away. Just when he thought he would be taken alive, another bright light flashed, and he seemed to be falling in endless time. He woke up in a panic. He was sweating, wondering what had just happened. He thought maybe it was all just a dream. He got up to rinse his face, and when he looked in the mirror, he saw his chiseled features; his long, dark hair, his rock like chin, and his dark green yes. But that wasn’t the most important thing he saw in the mirror. What he saw was the face of a killer. Just then, there was a knock on the door. When he went to open it, there was a blinding flash of light, so bright in fact, he nearly passed out. His ears were ringing from a loud screeching noise. Just then, it dawned on him. It was no dream. His name was Keith Christenson, and he was a murderer. He walked through the door and prepared for whatever lied ahead. 


Submitted: April 25, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Derek Algar. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Rinki

Nicely written. good combination of words. Hey, please check out my script titled, ''To a rose named Ellen..''. It may not be that good, but please read it.

Wed, April 25th, 2012 2:59am

Bert Broomberg

I liked your story.Good ending.

Fri, June 8th, 2012 9:04pm

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