Memories

‘You don't think about memories in a world like that. Pictures disappear from your mind after a while. A heartwarming conversation with a loved one. A nice day out with your kids. Sex. All gone. And you can't get them back.’

I've been alone for a really long time. It was becoming hard to keep track so I stopped. I find that the only thing that helps me separate my days is the music. Each day, a different song would be played. It's not in my head, because other things can hear it too. The river flows to the melody, the birds chirp to the tune, the frogs bellow to the beat. I don't know where the music comes from, but I'm glad it's there. I can't remember anything before here, and sometimes a note gives me a smell or a taste of something unfamiliarly familiar.

I can recall what I did yesterday but never before. That should be scary, but I know that I did exactly what I'd done the day before that. And the day after. But I hate that I can't remember the music. I favor some of the tunes more than others. It's upsetting when there is a music day I don't like or can't remember the one I do.

Everyday is the same. Wake up, eat, bathe, gather water from the river, sleep. Wake up, eat, bathe, gather water from the river, sleep. In the times between, I lay in tall grass and listen to—feel—the music. Absorb the tingers and the baws. Wake up. White light gives way to blue floods above and green fields below. Eat. White stringy meat, orange pointy sticks, and potatoes. Bathe. Cold water with small clouds on top. Stings if the clouds get in my eyes. Gather water from the river. My second favorite thing. Sleep comes right after drinking the river water. The peaceful blackness is intruded by white light, and it starts over.

The music stopped.

I was on the second step. Eat. I was just finishing the little brown and white squares when it happened. No warning. I was trapped in my body, unable to move. My eyes grew wide. The music just stopped. The frogs stopped bellowing. The birds ceased chirping. Everything feels wrong. This is not how the day is supposed to go. The music is the only thing that helps. The music is the only thing I look forward to, besides the water. It is the only thing worth waking up, eating, and bathing for, besides the water. I can't do this without it.

I have to turn the music back on.

Today, I'm going to do something I've never done before. I stand up, and I walk to the right. The water with the clouds is always twenty steps when I walk to the left, every day. But I walked to the right. The right is so different from the left. Well, maybe not so different, but everything feels different now.

Now is the time I usually gather the water from the river, but I don't see the river. I actually don't see much of anything. I'm getting tired of walking, but I have to get back to where I came from. Where did I come from? What's it called? It's getting hard to see, and the water in my eyes is making it worse. I really needed the music today. I slip on a rock and fall down into a narrow crack behind me. I landed on my... I landed facing up, to the blue flood. I think of how pretty the lights way up high are. Do they know what happened to the music?

My eyes open. This is not where I'm supposed to be. In a narrow crack, crowded by unmoving rock. I look down and its different colors, unlike the colors on the rest of me. And it hurts. And the music is still gone.

The day felt longer than any other. There was no chicken and carrots. No bath. No gathering water from the river. Thankfully, there was a trickle of water that came right down by my face. I stretched my lips to it and stayed until I could swallow again. It was different than the river water. I didn't like it, but I didn't like the dry feeling more. I cried for a while. I miss the music.

Another day comes and my ankle is still different colors, but I can move it more. I thought about leaving my camp that day. I remembered leaving my camp that day. I remembered the day before yesterday. Still no chicken and carrots and potatoes, and I can't bathe either—the trickling water isn't strong enough. But the sun. I enjoyed basking in the sun that I forgot was there. And I saw the stars. So, so many stars. I cried again. I miss the music, but I remembered the stars.

I stood up today. I was weaker than I should have been, but I have gone three days without food. I fell again, this time for a better reason. I was thinking about how to get out and I started humming my favorite song. One that played a really long time ago. I could not believe that I remembered it, and more so that I could hear it without the music on. As long as I can remember them, it won't be as hard to live without the music. I slept that night with an empty stomach and a full heart.

I'm getting out of this ditch today. The water is terrible and if I don't leave now, I probably never will. One of my favorite songs plays in my head. I put one foot up against the side of the ditch and jump slightly to angle my foot on the other side. After about twenty minutes of this, my hands grip the dirt and give me the final push to put me above ground. The walk back to camp was pleasant. A flash of a woman pops into my head. She seems familiar. I feel very deeply for her. "Hurry up, we're gonna be late," she calls. "Don't want to miss class on your first day!" She seems nice. I like her.

My camp looked exactly the way it did when I set off. Fresh chicken, carrots, and potatoes waited. I ate, and enjoyed it now. I think about the days I've been gone, all that's come back to me since then. I'd like to wander more, but I don't need to find the music. I'm getting used to the quiet, and I think I like it more. It's hard to forget your favorite quiet.

I bathe, then giddily skip to my river. I have missed regular, non-cave water more than anything. More than I missed the music when I first lost it. I drank three times as much as I normally would. I would have drank more, but the stars were left waiting back at camp. I walked back, laid down and drifted off to peaceful dreams, a faint sense of déjà vu lingering behind my eyes.

Wake up. I sit up to the food waiting for me. Stringy meat and orange pointy sticks. My eyes go wide.

The music stopped.