Young Writers Society

Ok this story has bad formatting I know but bear with me, just open your mind and think about my concept and image that I'm portraying before you.

Memories

A short story by Hao Nguyen

Memories. Why does this word continue to haunt me in my thoughts? I walk the roads and paths presented to me as I stride past all of those that wish me dead. I walk past the puddle as rain falls down and drips onto my head, dripping down my hair strands like fresh blood from an open wound. I walk past the pool of water and as I look in I see myself. I see my reflection, staring back at me with narrowed, hating eyes....the same eyes as those that I hate....the same eyes as the ones who hate me. I stare at my reflection and with that moment I reflect on my own life. I see a mother who will never wake from her eternal slumber, caused by the foolishness of those who refuse to obey the law. I see my father refusing to acknowlege my existance. I see my older brother who sees me as a window, looking through me as if I wasn't there. I see the days of my life in school and in society as I remember the days of constant harrassment and threats. I see the days when they make fun of me, when they shout at me, when they yell at me, WHEN THEY HURT ME!!! I relax, for it is in the past. I see the days on the playground where I met my first crush. Her name was May. I envied her light, auburn hair, the sweet colors of autumn in her eyes, and joyous melodies created by her voice. Heavenly by name, I watch from the distance, but I do not approach. In my mind I know she wouldn't want to talk to me. She wouldn't want to see me. She wouldn't want to have me. SHE WOULDN"T WANT TO BE WITH ME!!! But yet again, I don't care.

I continue to stare at my reflection in this stagnant puddle. I hear this echo in my mind, but yet I can not understand it. I seems like it is speaking in a different tongue, but yet it seems familiar. I look up to see the creator of the sound. It is a raven, perched on the branch, staring down at me, pitying every moment I make. I hate it. I want to kill the raven because it looks at me in such a way I can not stand it. Its eyes then shine like the full moon as my body freezes and my soul begins to move out of my body like a spirit finding it's final resting place. My eyes go blank for a moment and I begin to regain my breathing. I ask myself, "Where am I? What is this place?" I am at peace. Nothing comes to mind. All I know is that here, there is only me. I can't remember what was just on my mind. It is almost like it is.....blank. I look around the room and there is nothing that I can see. No walls, no end. Everything is an everlasting purity, colored with pure white. I slightly smile for there is not a single worry or thought that comes to mind. I love this world for a reason I do not understand. I am happy. I am calm. I am free. Then there is something that I notice....my skin is gray. My clothes are white. There is not a single speck of color anywhere. And for this.... I wonder. Is it that color resembles the memories of reality? Does it resemble the life in which cannot be changed? Does it resemble the sorrow, devestation, and anger that was once in my heart? I do not know.

I walk and walk as I search for the end of this endless room and as I walk, something catches my eye. A radient speck that has seemed like it had been there for an eternity. A vivid image that lies silently, waiting for someone to stare at it. I turn my head slightly as if I am about to see something that I will soon regret. I look. "It is beautiful." I say as my eyes peer toward the vivid blue rose that sits on the pedistal, in the center, alone from everything else. I am drawn in, but yet I'm not sure why. I can't help myself. It is too beautiful. Something tells me to turn away. Something in my conscience tells me that I do not want the rose, but yet my body moves on. I approach it slowly and with each step I take, I grow more and more attracted to this rose as if I were a bee in a room with only one flower.

It draws me in. I stand before the flower and I look at it with envy and selfishness. This flower is beautiful. This flower is wonderful. This flower.....is mine. I turn my head around to make sure that noone is nearby to steal this flower and I make sure that noone is near to even look at this flower. It is mine. ALL MINE! Sweat suddenly drips from the sides of my head as I shake and nervously laugh with excitement. This flower is mine and all mine. I reach toward the blue rose and in the time period of only four seconds, it feels like an eternity of time, feeling as if my entire life's years had just passed. I suddenly grab the flower with intoxicating greed, but then I pull away in sudden surprisement. My fingers are bleeding. There are cuts on my fingers. They bleed painfully. I look at the blue rose and I remember foolishly. Roses have thrones. I watch my fingers bleed, but then I feel a sudden impulse.....my heart stops....I can't breathe...I am frozen, but yet how am I still alive I wonder. My eyes are fixed on this blue rose and I continue to stare at it. I am afraid. I don't know what to do.

I wonder. Is it possible that this white room that endlessly stretches out....could this represent the complicated system of life? Does this blue rose signify the aspects of a single life? In this room is it possible that an endless amount of flowers can be placed, representing every life living in the world? Is it possible I wonder? But why a blue rose for me? Why not a happy daisy? Why not a cheerful tulip? Not even a romantic red rose? Why is this blue rose for me? Blue where my life is suppose to be depressing? Thornes on its stem....do they represent a hatred that I supposedly have? What does this mean? I don't remember anything. It seems like I've forgotten everything once I was placed in this boundless, white room. I don't remember. I hear an echo. It sounds like it is spoken in a different language, but it seems familiar.

Suddenly I feel my heart beat, after an eternity and with this I feel the air going into my lungs. Everything is normal. But there is another thing that happens. My head begins to fill with intense pressure as it begins to fill with pain. My eyes are closed violently and my ears continue to ring and ring, loud and unbearable. My teeth are clenched so hard that they begin to crack slightly, for this pain feels so strong. Blood begins to flow slightly down my nostrils and through my ears as all these images appear quickly through my mind. All these images of myself from age zero to my current age. They past through my mind so quickly it seems like I can't make out what I'm seeing. It feels like I'm having a flashback, but it goes by so quickly that it seems like subliminal images of my entire life, compressed into a thirty second film strip. What is this? I wonder. These images. Are they my memories? I don't know. I grab onto my head with intense pain as I look at the ground. There is a puddle of blood. I feel faint. I feel the fatigue. I fall onto the floor. As my head lands into the puddle of blood and splashes up onto my face, my eyes open and I find myself in reality, staring down the cold street, feeling the stagnant water on my face from the puddle on the road.

Where am I? I think as I stand up and look around. Rain continues to fall as I look around. My memories are back and then I begin to shed tears as images of a marked tombstone for my mother appears in my head. I see the images of those teenagers kicking me and punching me. I see the girl I adored ordering her boyfriend and his friends to hurt me. I see myself walking home to a father who is drunk, also punching me for crying like a baby. I see myself in the corner of my room shedding tears as I see the razor blade in front of me. I want to pick it up. I want to end. I WANT TO DIE! But I'm too afraid to do it. I'm too afraid. I continue to lie in the puddle as I close my eyes.

The raining has stopped. I don't feel wet. Everything is bright. I open my eyes and see the endless, white room from before, but instead, I'm in a hallway of white flooring and white walls, but no doors. I look down the hallway and see the a vivid blue picture hanging with a decorated black frame, hanging from the wall. I walk closer until I am standing in front of the picture. I don't remember anything at all. It is peaceful. I stare at the picture and I smile as I look at the painting of the blue rose. It sits there. It is all mine. Then the voice from before speaks again. It speaks in a different language, but it seems familiar. It echos in my mind. It is strange, but for some reason,....I think I understand it. I think I know what it is saying to me. This voice continues to speak as I realize that this endless, white room is peaceful. I am at peace here. I am happy. I am calm. I am free. And the voice continues to echo, as I stare at the blue rose, "Sometimes, it's better to forget....."