Forgotten To Remember

Like a thief in the night.

Words often referenced in the Bible.

Sometimes we stay so much In the dark we forget to understand the contrast to light.

The reason why “a thief in the night” is such a poignant phrase is because it’s a stark reminder of how safe we thought we were. How much confidence we put into a false sense of security.

Even down to believing we were alone in the universe.

There was indeed a thief in the night.

And we were far from ready.

Memory has become a sacred intangible jewel.

Which is funny, because the only one that I had was seeing planes falling out the sky and the ginormous belt of smoke and debris engulfing it’s way towards me.

And after that nothing. Before that. Nothing.

If I could take this memory and throw it in the sea I would have a thousand times.

Maybe it’s because it’s the only memory I have but when I sleep, it replays itself over and over and over.

I winced from the pain at the back of my head and had realised I was hair pulling again. I watched as the golden strands of my strawberry blond slither to the ground from my fingers.

A habit of mine.

Was not sure if it was from before “X Day One”or after. All I knew was that it was anxiety and stress induced.

Anxiety, stress, a fucked memory of the worst day in my…no, humanity’s life and a tiny locket with a picture of a boy was all I had.

Who I had a strange longing for, I knew that I knew him and loved him but could not remember his name. Holding this locket and staring at his deep brown eyes were the only comfort I had from this new insane world.

“Anna...ANNA! If you can’t pay attention in class you can leave! School is no longer mandatory”

My eyes rolled but I said nothing, putting away my locket and showing a sarcastic level of attention. The teacher returned back to lesson using the scrap of chalk board that survived the blast.

I did not want to be here, but food was provided and meals did not come cheap in the new world.

Her words droned in and out of the background noise. I could barely focus on the repetitive drivel of her words.

What was the point?

I saw that same question on the face of my peers looking around the class. An unfortunate bunch we were. Displaced and hungry. Thats all we were.

What was the point in history lessons? some of us couldn’t even remember our family members.

When mourning the unknown, a history lesson on some random king of some small island who killed his wife, seemed kind of cruel.

I raised my hands in protest.

“Why can’t you teach us what we really want to know? Like What happen on X Day one.”

The room fell still. The teacher, while stunned by my outburst, did not seem surprised by my question. She scanned the room looking at the faces of her students, then with a large single swipe cleaned the board.

“On the day we now know as X DAY ONE…” she started

The delapitated room of disheveled students were more attentive than they had ever been.

She continued.

“The world was hit with what scientist believe was a type of radiation, from something behind the sun. One like never before, unique. It affected the brains of everyone on earth. The part of the brain that holds memory was obviously most affected. It caused what you would likened to dementia.”

She paused as if to prepare herself for what she had to say next.

“Some experienced it more severely, lost control of bodily functions like speech, co-ordination even breathing. While most of us here experienced severe amnesia. While not fatal in itself. Many were in vulnerable situations at the time… Forgetting how to drive while on the highway caused massive pile ups. Pilots not knowing how to operate their planes for safe landing, nuclear plant workers…well we all witness the tragedies that arose from that. Much, if not all the devastation was man made due this severe and sudden onset of memory loss”

The room rustled with mummers.

Another student put their hand up visibly teary.

‘Why did we survive?and not…”

Seeing this, the teacher was sullen.

“While there is no widely accepted theory. Most believe that those less affected were significantly above average in that area of their brain. And thus it was not completely wiped and basic functions were unaffected by the supposed radiation”

At that moment an alarm rung through the air. It was the sound that we all came for. Dropping the subject like a bag, without hesitation the hungry students rushed out the doors for the rations that came with attending the class.

For a measly bread roll and bottled water. I was angry at my desperation.

As I scoffed the last of my portion. I wiped my hands ferociously on my rags of clothing. And pulled out my treasured locket. Beginning my ceremony of staring at the face between the silver heart shells.

So wrapped in it that I didn’t noticed the eyes rudely peeking above.

“Some one precious?” said a voice above.

With defensive shoulders raised I looked and saw it was the teacher.

“Yes” I said curtly and returned my eyes to what they favoured.

“Do you remember him?” The teacher asked.

“No. But I enjoy the feeling of familiarity…it’s like if I stare at it. Any moment now all the memories will come flooding back”

“I get that”

You would expect the teacher to read the mood and move along but she also seemed entranced by the locket in my hands.

I looked up, parading my annoyance on my expression to send a clearer message.

“I’m sorry. Its just…. “ the teacher stuttered “ Its just that I feel it too.”

My heart sank for some reason.

“What?!”

The teacher seemed emotional, her eyes lined with the threat of tears which shook me off my guard.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure why its making me so emotional”

The teacher tried to hold herself back, but the sobs poured through her hands and her shoulders jutted up and down.

Her cries brought the attention of the group.

“I think I recognise that face” Spoke another voice from behind me. Startled at the close proximity of it I turned to find one of the students from the class sitting beside me. He was the one who asked that question before. He looking intently at the picture in the Locket. He attempted to reach for it which made me withdraw.

“Sorry,” He said, suddenly aware of his actions. He seemed deep in thought while others requested to see the picture aswell.

My mind was blank. A flurry of feelings were running through me and I felt this strong urge to run.

“Wait a sec!”said the previous boy jumped up and rushed away. But not before begging me to stay put and wait for him.

I slipped the locket back into my pocket, hoping it would send the message to the crowd. They didn’t take to it kindly.

Memory was a precious thing now. I’m sure they felt envy that I had anything close to it.

The teacher pulled away from whoever was comforting her and called for the students to respect my wishes for space. Then apologised to me for causing the awkward commotion. Her snivelling made it difficult to express my anger.

Somehow I didn’t like where this was going.

The boy who begged me to stay returned with a backpack. I gripped the locket tightly in my pocket. As he got closer I could feel my body go cold.

The same face. A different pose but the same face was on the backpack.

I looked up with a face that asked for an explanation.

“I think it belonged to someone in my family. I suspect I had a sister or a brother…I dont know. This is what survived the wreck of my home.”

My eye darted back to the bag. That feeling I felt from the locket was stronger when I saw this purple singed bag. Strangely it was the bag more than the familiar face that caused a rise in me.

He beckoned for me to hold it. My hands released the grip of the locket and found themselves holding the bag. I was trembling. My head felt like it was about to split. Yet with all my might I could feel myself concentrating. I was on the cusp of something.

“I know you loved me…I know you care. Just shout whenever and I’ll ..be there…”

Was I singing?

I looked up and the crowd that, at that point were surrounding me. Their eyes wide aghast.

I couldn’t help but to timidly continue.

“You are my love you are my heart…”

I could feel the melody flowing through, as soon as more words rolled off others words and melodies came with them.

The crowd was stirring looking equally as confused as I.

“And we will never ever ever be apart.” The teacher sang meekly.

My eyes darted to the teacher who stood clutching her chest with tears rolling down her eyes.

“And I was like…Baby baby baby ooh!” Another voice from the crowd piped. And then more and more of the crowd started singing, myself included.

We sang that song to the top of our lungs, rejoicing. Dancing and hugging each other as we did.

We were remembering!

Something we have been told was gone forever was coming back to us. There was not a dry face in the crowd as with reached the end.

I fell to the ground tired, panting, desperate to catch my breath between sobs. For as I sang the song, blurred images emerged in my mind. I was in a crowd with thousands. Holding glowing sticks and waving them to a beat of the song we had all just sang. I had seen a woman to my right in the vision singing along with me and seeing her face was the reason I was crying right now.

“Mom”

I said with certainty

The boy in the locket was the boy on stage. The locket was a gift.

Finally there was another memory in my mind other than that stupid day that took it all away from me.

I heard a sound I hadn’t heard before that day. It was me laughing. I sat up to see the crowd of students hugging amongst themselves. My eyes frantically searched until I found the boy who had brought the bag. I raced to him and hugged him. Whispering over and over again.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

And when I pulled away his tear streaked face was beaming.

Abruptly he shouted

“WHEN I WAS 13! I HAD MY FIRST LOVE!!”

And just like that we were all singing along once again.

That day it was discovered that some memories had survived and music was a trigger. The scientist began a nationwide study, music therapy sessions and concerts became a stadium sized event. It led to mothers remembering their children and finding them alive. Scientist and engineers remembering things that would go on to help us rebuild.

Such a silly response to the level of devastation we had experienced. It removed none of the trauma but this song became a symbol of hope.

The locket, although saddened to learn the boy in it was not my lover or crush, became precious for a whole other grand reason.

“So what’s his name” said a random student after our third round of singing.

My mind went blank for a moment.

“Bustin?…I think” I said unsure.

There was a pause while we all exchanged glances. An eruption of laughter ensued after we all together exclaimed.

“Nahhhhhhhhh!”