Young Writers Society

Wally shook his thoughts away.

He could worry about why he looked different later, even if it was really bugging him. And he could worry about the shadow once it actually showed itself - as of right now, all it had done was ominously hide out of the corner of his vision. He knew there was something else going on here, but the shadow wasn't an immediate threat.

What was a threat was anyone in their group getting into a fight. Wally felt like he was used to situations like this - teams squabbling over what they should be doing. He glanced back down at his legs. If he had done track like he thought, maybe his team hadn't been all that fond of each other.

...That wasn't the right explanation, and he knew it.

Wally darted over between Elijah and Matvei. This had to be the stupidest decision of the life he couldn't remember, but someone had to play mediator. He felt like it was his responsibility to handle tense situations like this.

Elijah was also giving Wally questionable vibes, but he couldn't let Matvei fight with him over something that definitely wasn't true.

Someone had to be the adult here.

"I don't think any of us are in cahoots with the shadow," Wally said. "I think we all just have a lot on our mind. And even if one of us was, pointing fingers isn't going to help."

He thought for a moment, crossing his arms and resting his chin in his hand.

"...Even though none of you are admitting it, I know you're all missing your memories, too," he said. "I'm pretty sure none of us have given our actual names. Since we can't figure out what happened to us before we got here, we need to figure out what's going on now. We should try checking out this motel for other people, or at least something that can give us a clue on what's going on."

"I'm not in... cahoots... with the man in the shadows, as you say," Elijah replied. He didn't like this man, but couldn't quite put his finger on why. "I'm as confused as all of you."

He thought about what the unremarkable young man had said about them losing their memories. That would explain Eve. He thought about bringing her up, but he decided to keep that to himself.

The boy stopped his song to listen to the conversation. "Oh, lads and lass!" he interrupted, hopping up and joining the small crowd, "We shouldn't be fighting here! Look at this place," he gestured around, "Do you not see? There's lots to explore here! We've hardly gone in a single room!"

He didn't understand why these people were so eager to get at each other's throats. The man with the artwork - if only the boy could remember his name - was especially aggressive. The boy would have to keep an eye on that. Perhaps a good song would calm him down? Or at least lighten the mood.

He thought about it. No, he wouldn't play another song just yet. In a bit, sure, but not right away.

"Matvei" stared at the man in the plaid, his upper lip flinching into an evil sort of grin for a moment before he turned back to the fiddler on the bed.

The kid with goggles was stating the obvious, which he didn't think was incredibly helpful, but the fiddler was right. They'd only checked one room, not all of them.

He pushed himself off the bed with more force than necessary and pushed past the others towards the front door.

"Alright, then," he said lowly. "Let's go exploring." He turned back to the others with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. When he turned back to look out the door he paused, and then rushed forward.

The shadow was in the parking lot for but a moment, just a little clearer than before, but still lacking a distinguishable figure. By the time he'd take one step, it had vanished, and he swung back around to the sidewalk lining the edge of the building around the motel doors.

Painted on the ground near the next motel door was the word: "REMEMBER," in all caps. He stared at it, unsure if the red coloring meant blood or if it was just a trick of the red light from the motel sign. He squatted down beside and took a deep sniff - catching hints of iron. He dipped his finger in the last "R," finding it was still wet, and was very likely, blood.

Another smile twitched on his face.

So, this was a game.

Wally was close enough to Matvei when he left to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure in the parking lot. Something about the way that it just stood there before vanishing again made Wally feel uneasy. This was beginning to feel like a horror video game, and he did not like horror.

There might have been a reasonable explanation. He didn't know what. But it didn't have to mean they were getting stalked by some creature out to get them, right? He wished he could talk to the voice in his head right now. He didn't dare bring up his unease to anyone else here - especially not Matvei.

He turned away from the empty parking lot, joining Matvei in front of the next motel door.

He caught a glimpse of red.

He glanced down and saw a single word.


From the way that Matvei just sniffed it, touched it, and smiled, Wally had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just paint.

He shivered.

He had to come up with a reason for this, and he had to do it soon. If he didn't, he was going to start thinking this really was like some kind of horror movie or video game. And he just knew that he couldn't handle horror on his own!

"That-That's helpful," Wally said, trying to keep his voice steady but failing miserably. "Telling us to remember but not telling us how. And the writing in blood is...is definitely overdone. Harry Potter did it, anyways, so it's not like it's scary or anything."

Elijah saw the word written in blood after the others. He didn't know who Harry Potter was, but now wasn't the time to ask.

"I remember a woman..." he trailed off. He could almost smell Eve's perfume, feel what it was like to hold her in his arms. She was all consuming, but he still didn't know who she really was.

What his name was.

"I want to remember more," he added.

The boy hurried out after the others, slinging his fiddle case over his shoulder. The large man with the artwork on his arms was quite enthusiastic about getting outside, and then everyone else seemed keen to follow. The boy, seized by curiosity, chose to join them.

'Remember', write in red.

He stooped down next to the letters and touched the 'R'. His finger came away red and he frowned. He tasted it.

Blood.

Whoever was telling them to remember had certainly killed a lot of chickens to send the message. Red paint was expensive, though, and red really was the best color for a message like this.

He straightened, chuckling. "That shadowy fellow seems to be trying to help our little predicament."

Matvei laughed lowly in his throat with the kind of deep laugh that reverberated throughout his chest.

“Naive little boy,” he growled as he stood back up, pushing ahead of the others towards the door. It looked just like the other from the outside - the paint on the door was chipping, and the once-white number ‘2’ was covered in dust and grime. But when he went to jiggle the knob, it was locked.

Now he really had an excuse to kick down the door. He gave the knob one more twist before backing up and throwing himself forward with a powerful thrust of his foot. The door was ripped off its hinges and flew to the ground with a loud slam, and dust flew up into the air as it crashed on the filthy, matted carpet floor.

This room was different.

While the other one was empty and devoid of personality, this one had more dark streaks on the walks. Blood. Paint. It smelled more like the former. Kazimir stepped over the fallen door and put his hand in his pocket where his gun had been resting, sliding his forefinger over the trigger.

On the left was the bathroom. It was dark, but it looked like things had been thrown around and torn apart. As he came into the main room from the small hallway, he saw that the main room was much the same.

Blankets, clothes, trash, and random objects were strewn everywhere, but darkness seemed to shroud the bed and the furthest corner of the room. Matvei felt the hairs in his back raise.

A single lightbulb above the queen bed flickered to life, dim, and barely working.

Yet, it was enough to illuminate the silhouette of the shadowy figure lying on the bed, with eyes that seemed to catch the ominous red light creeping in from the outdoors.

It was staring at Matvei, and then Matvei pulled his gun, shooting a bullet between its eyes.

Nothing.

“Why don’t you wait for the others before you try to strangle me to death, hm?” The shadow’s voice felt like too-loud soundwaves coming from a massive speaker, but he was only speaking at a normal volume, though absurdly low.

Matvei didn’t wait. He leapt for the bed, and the shadow dissipated, like a ghost. Matvei spun around on the bed until he looked up to see the figure on the ceiling, staring down at him with beady, red eyes.

Wally knew he shouldn't have hesitated. Hesitation was bad. He didn't even need the voice in his head to tell him that; he just knew he should be the one leading their little group in. But it was hard not to be terrified by the entire aesthetic of this place, and it was only when he heard noises coming from inside the room that he finally joined Matvei.

And found the shadow.

On the ceiling.

God, he was terrified right now.

But the shadowy figure wasn't moving this time around. They were just...staying there. Matvei looked like he wanted to kill the shadow, but Wally was starting to catch on to that being Matvei's personality on a normal day.

And, weirdly enough? The longer Wally looked at the shadow, the less afraid that he felt. He knew he was defenseless. He was slower than usual, too. But the shadow wasn't just a monster under the bed anymore. They were something tangible. Wally didn't know how to fight them - if he had to fight them - but he was sure he could come up with something.

Even without the voice in his head.

...Who was he when he had his memories?

He shook the question aside. He had a shadow to deal with. His shoulders, which had tensed the moment he saw the bloody writing, finally loosened. His expression relaxed, too. His gaze traveled a little bit over, and he found himself looking right into the shadowy figure's beady red eyes.

"So," Wally said, ignoring the chaos of the room he was stepping into, "is the hanging from the ceiling, er, normal for you? It doesn't exactly look comfortable."

He gave a casual stretch and a smile.

"Are you friendly, by the way?" he asked. "It's hard to tell if you're going for the horror vibe or if you have a shy streak. Don't worry, though - we're friendly."

He glanced over and saw that Matvei had his gun out.

He faltered.

"...I'm friendly," he corrected. "As friendly as you are, anyways."

His smile grew a little more, even as his goggles started to awkwardly slide down his face.

Elijah joined the others in the room, and that was when he saw the shadow on the bed.

The others were talking to the shadow. He leaned back against the wall of the room, and that was when he saw Eve again.

But they weren't alone. There were two little children. A girl and a boy. His children with her.

But he wasn't with her. He was here in this strange hotel. "Where are we?" He demanded to the shadow.

The boy followed in after the group. The shadow above them seemed to strike fear and paranoia into the people around him. The boy didn't quite get it. The shadow, strange as it was, was quite beautiful in its own, undefinable way.

He gave a friendly wave and a short bow, "Pleasure to meet you, sir," he said to the shadow after the tall man made his demand, "I quite apologize for the fear of these folks. The day has been eventful." He flashed a friendly grin.

The dim light above the bed flickered, buzzing as the room went dark, then light again. The shadow shifted - changing shape from a recognizable humanoid silhouette to spiraling, fading darkness before the shadow manifested once again on the ground, looking less like a shadow from the sun and more like a smoky humanoid figure in the middle of the room, now staring at the three with the same red, beady eyes.

The shadow's face turned to the boy with the fiddle, a "smile" forming as a gaping, crescent-shaped hole under its eyes.

"Oh," its low voice reverberated again as an inhumanly deep bass note. "Please. Never apologize for fear. I already know all of you. This would not be our first meeting, and it won't be our last. But it will be our last like this. I only do this once."

The smile filled, his face returning to the shadowy oval it once was.

"For fun."

The shadow dissipated and reappeared beside Wally.

"Fun, for which all of you are well acquainted with, in your own ways. But not friendly fun. Though it's a well-meaning hope, it is misplaced. I am not friendly in the way you hope me to be, and I never will be. But for you - don't lose that. You've already lost so much..."

The shadow traveled, like blown by a breeze, to Elijah's side.

"And you are in a test. Nothing more. Let's hope your intellect will get you through this one." He raised his shadowy hand and pointed a finger at Elijah's forehead, making direct eye contact.

"Do a little exploring," he suggested, but it didn't sound like a suggestion. It almost sounded like a threat. "Start here. If you don't, you will be far worse for wear."

Just as the shadow turned around, Matvei rose from the bed, standing right behind him, looking down with a cold, murderous expression.

"This is just the type of game you'd love to play if you knew who you were," he said teasingly. Matvei's upper lip twitched in contempt.

"Have fun."

And then, the shadow of a man faded and didn't return.

Matvei let out a heavy breath, standing in front of Elijah, where the shadowy figure once was.

"Well," Wally said, staring at where the shadow had been moments before, "that was helpful."

He didn't like the idea of playing the shadow's game. He was getting a nervous feeling in his gut - it was never good to let an enemy get the upper hand. He wasn't sure why he was so certain of that fact, but Wally was reluctantly beginning to accept that he'd have to follow the shadow's advice.

He wasn't scared of how ominous the shadow was being. If anything, it was making his mind start to race. There had to be some explanation for what had been said. He just didn't know enough to figure it out yet.

He scanned the room.

He needed something that was familiar to him. That had to be the trick, right? It would have to be something that would jog his memory, or something that could give him the clues he needed to figure out what was going on.

His gaze landed on a little action figure tucked into the corner of the room's sole desk. He made a beeline for the figure. It was so old that the paint had chipped in some places, but the figure - a superhero dressed in a red suit - had one new looking part to it: a little bat sticker underneath a symbol Wally knew he recognized.

He grabbed it and looked back into the mirror.

--Then he was looking out from a bed in a college dorm, action figure laying on the bed beside him.

"I can't believe we're already big bad college students," he said, throwing himself back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't nearly as nice the ceilings in either of their (who was the other person?) actual rooms - he was sure of that - but he had the feeling that it was good enough.

He glanced over. There was a man sitting in the desk chair on the other side of the room. He was more of a boy, really. Neat blond hair, bright green eyes, and dimples that he always claimed weren't dimples. He had to just barely be eighteen.

The man gave him a tiny smile. "It feels like we only just met."

Wally gave a sagely sigh. "Time flies by when you're having fun."

"...That was cliche."

"Shhh," he said, putting a finger up to his lip. "I'm trying to have a moment here, James - oh! Remember when we first got together? You kept talking about your favorite show. I just wanted to run around outside, and then we..."

The scene around him glitched. He wasn't laying in the dorm anymore. He was in some kind of meeting hall, peeking around the leg of someone wearing a red suit like the one the action figure was wearing. He wasn't tiny, but he was much smaller than before. There was definitely a shift in perspective.

He was making eye contact with a little boy peeking around the legs of a man dressed in all black. The kid looked funny with the mask he had over his eyes, and the fact that he was wearing underwear instead of pants, but he grinned when Wally looked at him long enough.

When the adults - because Wally got the distinct feeling he was a kid - weren't paying attention, the boy with the funny mask darted over and grabbed onto his wrist. Wally didn't fight it.

"Your goggles look funny," the boy commented.

"Hey!" Wally protested. "You look even stupider - you're wearing underwear."

The boy crossed his arms. "I think it makes me look good."

There was a pause.

A second later, the two of them were thrusting their hands out.

"I'm Robin," the boy offered.

Wally grinned. "I'm-"

The world glitched again. Now he was back in the room, trying to quell a voice that wasn't quiet a voice talking in the back of his mind. He snapped his attention back to the conversation when James worriedly asked what had to be his name - but Wally couldn't hear it.

He shook his head.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "I was spacing out."

James didn't say anything.

He just gave him a long, worried look.

Wally, in response, rolled over on his side and turned to him. "That was when I kept saying I was a redhead, wasn't it?" he asked.

James nodded. "And when you had that pair of swim goggles you wore everywhere," he added. He paused, and then hesitantly finished with, "...I always thought they looked stupid on you, but I never wanted to say anything."

He dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand.

"That's because they weren't the real deal," he said.

This isn't the real deal, the voice in the back of his mind said, in words that weren't words but also were.

Shut up, Wally replied.

Now fully distracted, he grabbed one of the stickers he had brought to decorate his stuff - a little sticker of a bat - and stuck it onto the action figure at his side. James was just giving him a funny look while he did it, but Wally was too focused on getting it just right--

The vision ended.

His grip on the figure tightened. Wally hadn't realized it earlier, but the entire thing hadn't just been playing out in his head like a normal memory - it had been playing on the mirror like it was some kind of TV show.

A tear rolled down his cheek, even though he couldn't figure out why.

Before they knew it, someone else's memories were projecting on the mirror.

The unremarkable boy whose name he couldn't even remember was in another room talking to another boy his age. The boy looked like Robin. Batman and Robin? He remembered walking to the drugstore with his mother, the blond woman with kind brown eyes who he'd recalled initially, on hot summer days. If he'd been good, she'd buy him a Batman comic.

It was odd he remembered this before he remembered his own name. Still, the boy's memory came to an end, and that's when Jay's eye caught a vinyl record leaning against the wall. Frank Sinatra. Songs For Young Lovers. Frank standing by a light post, a couple in the back that from a distance looked like he and Eve.

Before he knew it, he was in a small, sparsely furnished living room. There were fresh roses on the coffee table. Eve was beside him, beautiful as ever in a red dress, and Elijah knew he'd bought the roses for her. The vinyl record had been playing for a while, and then came a song which Elijah knew he'd heard many times before.

Lately,
I find myself
out gazing at stars...

Eve was wearing a ring, and so was he. Of course. They were married. Elijah sat on the couch, and Eve buried her head in his shoulder.

"I have to you tell you something," she said.

Elijah listened.

"I'm pregnant."

Elijah looked at her. "Sarah," he said. "This is wonderful." So her name wasn't Eve. It was Sarah. In his memory, he kissed her. "Our child's going to have a better life than I ever did."

He kept kissing her, and he didn't want it to stop.

Just then, the vision faded. His hands were sweaty as he let go of his grip on the vinyl record.

Matvei's mind was racing. His hands twitched as he scoured the room - first, looking for something relevant, and second, the source of the movie memories playing on the mirror and on the wall.

There was no projector. There was no camera, no light source, no nothing. Just a screen, out of nowhere, playing memories from the minds of goggle kid and creepy woman-obsessed guy. His mind was split and torn as the memories played out. Goggle kid's memory seemed to glitch, like a part of the movie had been patched in sloppily. The first part seemed like a real memory. The second half seemed like a scene straight out of a batman superhero movie (except he didn't recognize the actors, not that he watched a lot of superhero movies anyway).

The creep's memory was about him and his wife. They were having a kid. Probably already had the kid. He didn't look so good when it was all over. And goggle kid was crying.

"What the hell was all that?" he spat, looking between goggle kid and creeper. "Was that your real life? Like your real f-ing memories?"