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Not Forgotten.

By @confusedsarcasm

We're Still Here.

Let me invite you to listen in on my rather odd afternoon. As it’s still the afternoon… and things are even weirder.

I’m currently at my desk writing this to all of you but the words are changing. Changing is the simplest way I can describe it at least. Almost morphing, if I dare try to explain it. The letters are turning, some bubbling, others twisting. And they form the most bizarre sentences.

“The moonlight shone lightly through the cloudy sky” became “The murmurs of salty tears threw the whispers around.” Like, what is that even supposed to mean? It isn’t even close to my original sentence.

Perhaps I’m overtired? I can’t even remember the last time I slept but that’s not the point anymore. The book I titled “Lost,” now says “Not Lost” and to be completely honest, I’m utterly terrified. And… ok, the ghost is writing again on my document. I’ll copy it below:

“I wished to spoke but now I’ll not. ‘Ghost’ has offense. You will remember me.”

I’m concerned and I don’t know who this person is. I wasn’t even writing anything yet! I had simply typed a title but now I’m just creeped out.

The door behind me is creaking. This doesn’t help my fear of living alone whatsoever. I’m trying to trick myself into believing it’s just the fact that this house is older but the doors never creak and I don’t own a television… but there’s voices flooding the room.

“…you’ve forgotten… wouldn’t you remember your own writing…” Is what they seem to say.

I’m leaving the house, typing this on my ancient phone I haven’t replaced yet but I have no clue where I’m heading. Outside is odd too. It was supposed to be sunny and clear skies today but it’s windy. Very windy. And the sky is gray.

Oh good gosh, now the wind has decided to spark a conversation! I’m hearing whispers like: “forgetful… we’re your expertise after all… your ideations… your characters.”

I’ve paused my walk to nowhere and now the wind has seemed to freeze alongside me. “Who are you?” Is what I asked and now the wind’s picked up and is… hissing? Spitting out the same sentence it just said along with something else.

“…we’re the ones you’ve destroyed… the ones who moved the story along… the side characters… the main characters’ best friends… the now ‘too weak’ villains… we were your creations… don’t tell us you’ve forgotten…”

The last word is given and just as fast as I kill off characters, my eyes seem to open despite them already being open.

And I’m now sat in my swivel chair adjacent to my desk, laptop on lap, document laid out on the dim screen. The title worded, “Not Forgotten.”

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  1. faith cichon

    May 5, 2022

    Your work is fantastic! When is the next chapter!

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    0 Replies May 5, 2022
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