Her last memory

 

Hey guys! I was planning on doing another short film review, but I came across this piece and remembered how much fun I had writing it. This was one of the first flash fictions I wrote since being at MSA, and it happens to be my favorite actually. Give it a read, leave some feedback, comment what you think! I’m pretty sure I’m going to revisit this and work on it for submissions, but for now enjoy!

Her last memory

The desolate building slowly started to cave in on me. Since the first day of my sentence, I’ve felt the room getting smaller and the walls getting closer. Today is day 129 or 139⸺I can’t really remember. I lost count around the 100th day when they took the chalk I was using away because I was “making a weapon.” Whatever day it is, I haven’t heard not one sound in the building today. Not the hard footsteps of the guards, not the loud guffaw of the vicious commoners coming to make their daily attacks on me, not even the birds, who chirp a song to me every morning. The place is void of anything living it seems. I know for a fact is isn’t Sunday, the smell of stale white bread and red wine hasn’t invaded my eager nostrils yet. No one is here. I guess I’ll try to make the most of the lack of people today. I haven’t had peace and quiet in a long time. A ghost of a smile appears on my face as I recall the last memory of me being alone. It was on the day I was taken. The flowers had just started to bloom. The roses emitted such a fragrance that with each breath I took, it was like breathing air for the first time. The grass shined brighter that day. Whether it was the dew or just the pure happiness I felt, I was at such peace. My ignorance was bliss. I had no idea what was in store for me that day but I always lived my days as if they were my last. I remember walking down to the river that day. The sheer white dress flowed around my body and danced with the blades of grass as I walked. The water was extra warm that day. It was a contrast to the slight breeze in the air. I walked knee deep in the water and just breathed. That moment was pure ecstasy but in a heartbeat⸺it was taken from me. The town went into an uproar over me being in the river. They said I was “tainting the water.” I should’ve known they were going to say something about me⸺they always do. I was the black sheep in the community. Unlike everybody else, I wasn’t native to the land. As a baby, I was left in the middle of the town to be taken care of by someone else. By law, any child under 16 must be in the care of an adult. No one wanted me so I had to be taken care of by the local animal shelter. These people were unkind to those who aren’t native. They claimed me as “impure” simply because I wasn’t one of them. I was always subject to be the blame for anything wrong here. The rain hasn’t come for days? I pleaded to the Gods to kill them by dehydration. Harvest was late? I poisoned the crops. The animals started being aggressive? I provoked them. Everything was my fault. It’s been like this for years, since I started to talk actually. I found myself slowly starting to believe their words but I always knew I was never the problem. Me being in the water set it off for them. The river was used for baptisms and I was drowning my sins in them by standing in it. They rinsed themselves in the water to purify it again while I was taken to the jail so they could control my behavior once and for all. Since that day, I haven’t seen the light of day. The people come to tell me of the misery I caused them. Some of them I’ve never talked to before, some I’ve known my whole life. Sitting here, in this cell, I recount all the times I’ve had the opportunity to leave. Why didn’t I leave? The walls are pushing against me now. I can’t take it anymore. The silence is killing me. I can’t breath. Why didn’t I leave? The river, the animals, the words, why didn’t I leave? Suddenly I feel it. The breath was being taken from me.The air around me was lighter. My life was slipping through my pores one by one. My last thought ran through my head as the lights were turned off. Why didn’t I just leave?

Author: Morgan Love

Just a girl trying to find out who she is :) Follow me on this journey of MSA and hopefully this will help you just as much as it helps me. xoxo

2 thoughts on “Her last memory”

Comments are closed.