Memories are often the most treasured items, whether you know it or not. Memories are what make us. You are a being composed of memories from every avenue, not just your own, but from those around you. Your mother, your father, and that random person you bumped into on the train all have memories, some short and uneventful, some long and personal. Every single being you have ever come in contact with who is capable of a memory has at least one of you, and the same goes for all of them. I have learned a lot in the past two years of having this curse, and I’m afraid I won’t have much longer to live. For you to understand, I have to explain what happened a few months after I acquired this cursed ability.
Not long after the incident with Carson, I lost my job and tried to shut myself off from everyone. That doesn’t mean I didn’t cause a lot of problems. A simple bump in the street usually became me trying to calm down a random person with stinging eyes fighting tears. A few hours later, I would see their mangled corpse lying at the tips of my toes, then I would jolt back to reality, and no one would know who that poor man was again. I bumped into maybe six people in that time, maybe two months. I still remember them all to this day. First was John, an accountant from New Jersey, who was a calm and timid man. He had a daughter and a wife at home. I don’t know what happened to them or where they are now.
Next was Lucy. She was a homeless woman whom I tripped over. She told me ran away from home when she was 16. Her father was a drinker and would often, in her words, “play a game that left many scars.” She was very kind; her hair was unkempt but still fell softly across her shoulders as if she spent hours on it; her skin was pale; her eyes were sunk in with dark circles; but I talked and asked her about every detail of her life for the few hours before she suddenly jolted into a shape that a human body could not make, her body warped. Her neck twisted and her spine elongated until her head lay under her legs, which are both extended in a standing position with extra joints, making it seem like a broken dog leg. Her arms wrapped around her stretched-out torso like vines on a tree trunk, and her fingers all broke. One wrist jetted out of her palm. I only saw it for a second, but I saw a tear fall down her face across the frozen smirk from conversation before and onto the gravel beneath her feet. Then I was back in the street with scraped knees.
I began to tell those I bumped into that I was Death and that it was okay, and that they could talk to me. The majority cried and broke down about how they wanted to say goodbye or how they had regrets. Some just sit there and don’t say anything. I try to remember every person’s name and story since I know no one else will. One of you reading this right now may have had a brother, friend, wife, loved one, or even a guy who you bumped into at a party once, and they are gone. You don’t even remember the color of their hair, let alone a memory you two had that could have meant everything to you. Wouldn’t you like to know that at least one person remembers them? I would. One bump.
I remember vividly one of the first 6 was a girl who was only 8. Her name was Maeve. She had bright blue eyes with brown hair braided down her back. She was wearing a crimson shirt with orange flowers on it. She was just walking with her mom when I bumped into her and there we were. She was scared. At first she started calling out for her mommy. She ran in one direction of the void and fell to her knees with tears in her eyes, so I walked up beside her, sat down and tried my best to console her. I told her that I was a friend and that she had to sit here with me for a bit. She sat with me and I asked her about her life. Although she was a child, I was still hooked on every word she said. When she was three, her and her dad went to the zoo, and she saw a giraffe (her favorite animal). On her sixth birthday, she lost her front tooth and her mom told her to put it under the pillow for the tooth fairy. She asked me about santa and how microwaves worked, and then out of nowhere she said something that shook my bones. “Am I going to die?”
I began to feel the sensation of tears forming in my eyes as she looked at her black dress shoes. I ignored the question and asked, “What is something you would always want your mommy to know, no matter what?” She instantly chipped up and said, “I love you, mommy, even when you make…” and before she could finish her sentence, her body was crushed like an invisible hydraulic press pushed down on her. I watched as her neck snapped to the side, her spine protruded out of the top of her neck, and her body became an unrecognizable pancake. Tears flooded my eyes before I was back in the present moment. I turned as quickly as possible to see a woman in a blue shirt with black hair. Maeve’s mother. I knew her name since Maeve told me. “Samantha!” I screamed. She turned to me with a puzzled face and stared at me. Tears filled my eyes. “Yes?’’ Her voice echoed in my mind. “Sir, are you ok?” I say without hesitation or a second thought in my head. “Meave wants you to know she loves you.” “Umm, ok? And who’s Maeve?” My heart dropped even though I knew she wouldn’t remember. I wanted her to remember so desperately. I have never wanted a woman to cry out for her daughter before, but she didn’t. She just looked at me, waiting for an answer. I stand in pure frozen horror. I didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, nevermind.” She turned away, looking back at me anxiously as I stood there, about to drop to my knees and die.
Soon after this, the nightmares started. I would wake up in the void alone. This was a new occurrence as I have always been there with someone, so I took it upon myself to try and explore this realm. I walked a few minutes and found a field. The hard, rough gravel that hurt my feet a few minutes before became soft dirt. I felt an unnerving sensation of being watched. The void closed around me, and I woke up in a cold sweat. The dreams persisted, and I uncovered more of the void. It was resembling our own world but devoid of life, shrouded in a perpetual mist, and cloaked in darkness. The air was always warm, and I always found myself in a clearing with gravel on the ground and tall grass on both sides of me. A few months later, the dreams would appear at random times, not just when I was sleeping, but when I was awake too. I would see them, or whatever they were. It didn’t have a shape that I could make out, but it was there, and I knew it was there. It knew I knew it was there. It watched me from the corner of my eyes, always stalking but never approaching. I don’t know what it is, but when I’m there, I’m not alone in the void.