La'syrus & Other Worlds

Amnesia

She was quiet for a long time, aquiline eyes in her lap. "If I forgot you," she started, after being quiet so long she'd thought she wouldn't say anything, "how would you feel? We don't really see each other that often, and I'd probably be scared to leave the forest... I might wander off somewhere else. I stayed close to the Strange Wood because I met you, you know. So if I forgot everything, you might not see me again..." She didn't look up at him because of the water she fought from falling down her face.

James took on too much responsibility when it came to her. He always patiently answered all of her questions and tried to make sure that she was happy and good. He'd even let Amaryllis be rude to him and use his waterfall because she wanted, all without letting Amnesia help him, even when she wanted. And he did it because he was a good person, whether or not he wanted her to call him that. If she told him what was wrong, he'd just feel bad or try to fix it somehow, and she didn't want that. It didn't feel like something he could fix, and even though he hid it better than she did, she remembered when she'd found him leaking in the forest. She didn't want to ever make him feel like that.

Amaryllis walked back into the hall and leaned in the doorway of the room James had disappeared into. "So, what am I supposed to—“ She cut herself off as a bundle was tossed at her. She caught it easily and unfolded it to find a pair of boxers and a shirt. "I'll be out when I'm clean," she said, picking up the boxers with her thumb and middle finger and tossing them back at him. No way she was wearing those.

Amnesia

Were they closer than just friends? She wasn't really sure.. She did love him though; that much she knew. It was a lot like how she loved the forest. When it was winter, she'd missed all the trees, and she'd even kissed the first one she saw growing leaves again come spring. In the same way, she was always happy when she saw James, and she missed him when he wasn't around. 

"It's awful," Amnesia replied, her hands muffling her voice.

Amnesia thought about James' explanation on homes. It didn't really tell her what homes looked like or how to tell them apart from other places, but her curiosity on that fell to the wayside as he told her that there were more homes close to the forest. A pleased smile blossomed even as she gave him a single bob of her head. "Okay," she agreed happily, bouncing on her toes. The thought that people wanted to live close to the forest, even if it wasn't actually in the forest, reassured her in its own strange way. Maybe the world wasn't upside down after all. 

Amnesia leaned forward, propping her arms on her legs as her aquiline eyes dipped back towards James once more. "But how do you not get lost in there? It looks like a holey cave! With the woods, there's a connection. You just know where to go. The trees and the wind tell you. From here though, I can barely feel the connection." She glanced back over her shoulder where she could faintly make out the forest's silhouette in the distance, then turned once more to the school. "You said there's no trees or anything in there. How're you supposed to know where to go?"

This story was a fun experiment in voice and magical realism. When I was planning out the plot, I imagined Maisie like a damsel in distress, stopped on an island in the middle of the lake, and my main character had to go on a quest to figure out how to restart her. Sometimes it’s harder to write the selfish narrative—the girl who turns the situation into something about her and “learns” from it.  I’m glad I changed my mind about the quest.

Admittedly, it isn’t a story for everyone. Underneath the vivid descriptions, little movement or interaction truly happens, and it feels lonely. Because it’s so short, there’s little world-building. People have told me they wish it were expanded, that I delved a little closer into the Ghomorin’s mind and fleshed out the world more... But someone also read this and teared up, and because of that, I stuck by it.

Her confusion faded a bit as a sudden suspicion entered her bright eyes, causing Amnesia to look at the girl a little closer. She squinted, peering closer at the red-head, lips pursed. "Unless..." She trailed off, and her eyes widened. "You are a plant! You steal the leaves of other plants and use them as your own to soak up the sunlight!" Amnesia had never heard of such a thing, nor talked to a plant quite like this girl, but it was the only thing that possibly made sense in her odd-thinking mind. She doubted there was even green paper; it was just the plant-girl trying to keep her secret. 

After a few moments, however, she shook her head, shaking the uncertainty away as she approached the girl again, this time remembering to maintain some distance. Carefully, she began to arrange the flowers on top of the strange wooden thing that apparently made the noise she'd heard earlier. "You didn't seem to like them a lot, but could you continue anyway?" She eventually ventured hopefully. "I could always go back out and get leaves instead, if that's what you really wanted. I'm not really sure what you would want them for though..." As she trailed off, her bright blue eyes briefly flickered over to the red-haired girl in a look that plainly said that she thought that someone who desired a pile of leaves probably didn't have the firmest state of mind. Yet, Amnesia would not say anything of the sort or question her if that was what she wanted; she'd simply go back out to collect the leaves.

“No, I’m certainly not a vampire. And vampires aren’t the only creatures who are immune to sickness, though I would have to guess that they are the most common... As for how I’m sure that I can't get sick... Well," Khal gave her a smile—a real one, not some show in the name of being polite, "That would have to be because I've never gotten sick, and I can guarantee that I've been alive longer than you think." 

Almost gingerly, he pulled his hands away from his mug, turning his palms over. As he'd expected, his hands were an angry pink, having been scalded by the hot cup, and he'd been too far gone in his mind to notice. He curled his fingers inwards, testing the feeling, and tingles followed in the wake, brushing over every angry nerve. 

He supposed the only thing that could be done at this point would be to give polite, vague answers and wait for her interest to wear out. It was not the first time he had done such a thing in order to escape a conversation he held no interest in, and he knew this would not be the last time he would have need of that particular tactic. 

If it's James, I might actually enjoy this, Khal couldn't help but consider—but he doubted it was. Though he wouldn't profess to know the boy, he didn't seem the sort to hide and wait to attack. He gave off too much of an air of confidence.