the sun is barely awake when you open your eyes. hints of orange show themself in the sky when you look outside your bedroom window. summer is making itself known.
your life has been following a predictable [[routine]]. every year is the same as the [[last]], though you wouldn't complain about it. it's better than the alternative.
[[isn't it? ->walk]]wake up. open up the shop. go fishing. finish your chores. walk around. close up shop. nothing [[special ->home]], really.sometimes it feels like time has no effect on you. you are still the same as you've been for years. even your appearance has hardly changed.
you can cut your hair, but the past clings onto you and you still have [[the face of a child ->home]].you leave the house, your [[shovel]] in hand.
when you walk down the road, there are two different looks you get. one of judgement or one of [[admiration]]. you have gotten used to the former - years of it have dulled even the sharpest of stares.
[[you never intended to be so polarising.->polarising]]admiration only comes from those who don't know any [[better ->walk]].[[retrieve a memory. ->treasure]]it’s the summer of [[many years ago -> time]]. there is a group of five children; they’re around their preteens, about to face the reality of the world with the mind of youthful [[innocence]].there is a cacophany of summer's sounds. cicadas buzz with song and the kids are discussing amongst themself. it’s almost the end of the break.
you can only [[watch]].before time had become [[stagnant ->treasure]].it's a painfully long walk to [[treasure rock ->legend]], at least back then. it seems as though the group of children talk for ages.
it's all conversation they think would be important. what will middle school be like? (bad.) will we get strict teachers? (yes.) will everything stay the same? (no.)
but they couldn't have [[known ->destination]].it's a creek relatively distant from where you live, near the edge of town. treasure rock is what young kids had called this area, named after the rock which splits the river.
(those kids have grow up now, passing the name down to your generation.)
the creek is known for the crystals you can find in its waters. whether the ones people find hold much value is up for [[debate ->watch]].eventually they reach their destination.
the children search in the bed of water. they are finding more pebbles than crystals. one isn't even bothered, mainly looking for frogs around the area.
their chatter continues to fill your ears. they don't even notice the [[rock]]. how could they?you're the only one who sees that the rock is now stained with [[blood]].they continue searching, even if viscous red liquid spills into the water. even if their hands are coated with it.
[[you don't tell them. ->spinal]]this is a good memory, one you hold close to your chest. wasn't this before everything changed?
but transparent, gelatinous fluid still pools at your feet. it's slightly discoloured. like the colour of egg whites.
[[you allow it. ->present]][[leave the past. ->school]]continuing down the road, you pass by the school you used to attend. it's too early for any kids to be entering. not even the staff are here at this time.
you look through the [[window]].you can't see anything through the [[glass]].
you can recall the memory of you and your friends sitting down on the steps during recess. or the times where you'd join them in slipping out of class.
(you'd say it was to make sure they stay safe. in [[reality]], you liked being by their side.)
the only [[confidant ->walk]] which remains by your side.it's dimly lit, waiting for someone to run through its halls, to clean its glass panes, to bring it to life.
at one point, it may have waited for [[you ->window]].
many years have passed since those days, though your eighteen years do not show on you.
there will be times better than the [[past]]. even if there aren't, the weight of your memories has grown too heavy. you can't always [[reminisce]] like this.you've yet to learn to leave it [[behind ->reality]].[[retrieve a memory. ->hallway]]it's after school. everyone has returned home. the school looks abandoned at these hours - dark, silent, the wind gently tapping against the windows.
you can hear footsteps; fast, one step after another. a young girl's giggles permeate through the hallway. it's contagious. another girl begin to laugh before they're hushed by their friend. //keep quiet, or we might get caught.//
they run straight past you, into an [[empty]] room.you watch through the glass in the doorframe. in any other circumstance, you wouldn't see anything as an [[observer]]. but you know how this scene plays out all too well.
barely audible murmurs. a flashlight turns on, lighting the face of a girl underneath.
the rest of them huddle [[together]], as she tells a story.the world around you begins to shift. the young girl is about to create a new one out of her words.
//have you ever wondered why nobody moves into the house at the end of my street?//
her friends shake their head, collectively leaning in towards the storyteller.
//they're afraid that the previous owner's bad luck haunts it.//
you look [[onwards]]. that's all you can ever do.you didn't have to participate to feel included. somehow they always understood, that despite your absence of words, you were still there. you were an observer, but you were never on the outside looking in.
you have yet to feel so [[understood ->empty]] again.[[leave the past. ->field]]the knee-length blades of grass tickle you. they're in desperate need of a trim. on some days, they'd be swaying with the wind, as if dancing to music only they could hear. but they are still, and so are you.
the brim of your hat shields you from the [[summer]] sun.
a chill makes the hairs on your neck stand, but it comes from no wind.
[[flowers]] decorate the edges of a [[lake]]. it is almost picturesque.on your knees now, you peer your head over the water. there are few places where it is so clear, where you can see your [[reflection]] stare back at you.
your eyes pull you to the [[depths]]; all-encompassing blue, lurking darkness.the dangers of the water do not reveal themself at the surface. it is only when you fall so deep, and you can't swim back up, that its unknown beauty twists into a horror.
you try not to [[sink]].you aren't good at recognising most flowers. sprouts are peeking out from the soil; buds are just about ready to bloom; but what catches your eyes is the group of [[chrysanthemums]].maybe if you were younger, you'd have crushed them under your heel.
and yet, you're coming to terms with the loneliness and all the hurt that comes with it.
there will come a day where you can say you [[have->field]].[[retrieve a memory. ->winter]]you notice a pair of [[children]] traverse under the wintry sky. fresh snow crunches under their boots, layers of clothes keep them snug.
but their gloved [[hands]] hold one other, perhaps the warmest gesture of all.the children slip on their [[ice skates]].
and when they get on the ice, it is as if they are the only two people in the world. their laughter resonates throughout the field, one's hand guiding the other as they skate. they haven't felt this light in some time.
but one lets go of the other's hand and the child loses balance.
you [[fall ->first]].//isn't it wonderful?//
[[no.]]
[[yes.]]it doesn't matter how hard you try, the words never leave your lips. you can never say that you don't want her to go. every iteration of this memory ends like this:
you are unable to say the [[truth ->honesty]].and the world feels just a little [[colder ->cold]].blinding white. until your vision comes to, and to your right is a girl extending her hand to help her friend up.
the ringing in your ears almost deafens you to her confession.
//i'm [[leaving]], to another country.//
a hand reaches to the back of your head. you wish you were [[bleeding]], so you could blame this on an injury.
//did i not tell you...? i've found a trainer, and he's planning to help me improve. i could be in the olympics...!//
you know that the other will not match her [[honesty]].she will not be the [[last ->first]].[[leave the past. ->buried]]your pace slows as you walk up a hill, looking over treasure rock. the sky is painted blue with daylight. by your side is a tree, with sharp needles stuck into it. a small strand of [[red string]] lies next to it, concealed by the grass.
you are where you're meant to be. your grip on your shovel [[tightens]].
there is a part of the hill where the dirt isn't as leveled. you walk over.
and [[dig ->screaming]].she weaves her [[stories]], and her friends are clutching onto each other's hands in fear. because if there was one thing they knew back then, it's that they were always within [[reach.]]
you turn [[around ->behind]].altogether, your hands could hold onto anything. your bonds endured between each connected finger.
but when one link breaks, so shall the whole [[chain ->onwards]].you could attribute most of the ghost stories you know of to come from her. but the lips which once crafted worlds of her own now only whisper a haunting [[name ->onwards]].a red string faintly glows, illuminating a path for you to [[follow]].and you do, because you think it'd lead to some closure. and you'll ignore the splashing sounds of blood. and you'll ignore the ichor which sticks to the bottom of your mahogany [[sandals]].a [[light]] is shining at the end of the hall.it has long overstayed its welcome. you used to hate the way your sweat would stick to your skin.
but now, like everything else, it only [[reminds ->field]] you.//do you hear it, the wet crack of bone, as her head collides with the rock?
do you hear it, her calling for each one of your names?
do you hear it, how her sentences couldn't form well, broken in between groans?
words couldn't sound more helpless when your brain is leaking out of your [[skull ->dig]].//and [[dig ->still]].//the memory of her screams is what tore you all apart. a haunting series of pitches, all in agony. but then and there, you all held on so tightly to each other, unable to move. as if [[splitting ->deeper]] apart meant the world would as well.//and [[dig ->silence]].//...and then, there is nothing. no screams, no cries. just the gentle summer breeze blowing through your hair.
[[but silence was the most deafening sound. ->deep]]//until you hit [[bone]].remember it all; good and bad. what are you, if not a collection of memories from the past, present and [[future?->credits]]//memory cabinet// by kappy.
thank you for playing!the light refracts against the ripples, distorting your face.
are you [[proud ->lake]] of what you see?they are in their second year of middle school now. whatever dreams they had of it were shattered by the weight of reality.
be it through the knowing glares, or the times where you'd have to hide together to avoid them. or it could've been the stricter teachers. (you wish it was.)
but in a rain of glass made from broken ideals, at least they took shelter together.
(life didn't go that [[way ->winter]].)she had lent a pair of her skates to you. the good ones, the ones you knew her parents bought when she decided to take up ice skating. they shone with how recent they were, and you recall how easily you could move with them.
it never occured to you, that the sharp edges of these skates were meant to soften the cut of why she wanted to see [[you ->hands]].blood is on your hands. but it does not come from [[injuries ->first]].you know this is selfish, and you know this is wrong. but you think it's been helping.
[[you know what you have to do. ->buried]]the ends are frayed. what once was twisted tight together has now split into seperate directions.
[[you know what you have to do. ->buried]]