For this post I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could squeeze two prompts into one post. Something I will affectionately call a “two-fer.” This weeks’ post is in response to a Daily Post Writing Challenge, and an InMON prompt.
The Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge Prompt: “You’re an intergalactic visitor who just happened to land on Earth on February 14. Describe the weirdness you’re seeing.”
Inspiration Monday Prompt: “Yesterday’s News”
Please enjoy my interpretation of the prompts. Happy reading!
“I know I remembered the truth once, I can feel it…but my memories are fuzzy…like yesterday’s news…” The words escaped and I regretted them immediately. I had acknowledged that something had happened; now they wouldn’t stop bringing in the recorder until I told them the truth. Whatever that was.
The recorder tape kept spinning. I watched the two wheels turn behind their clear shell and tried to count the rotations, which only caused my eyes to tear and go hazy. Instead, I broke my gaze and focused on the tattered piece of tape with a date typed in bright red…February 14.
“Funny,” I thought, “Valentine’s Day with my date…the recorder. You don’t talk much to do?”
I smiled, but my mind was conflicted. I knew I should continue. Didn’t want to waste tape because of my hesitation. Technology was valuable…But I didn’t want to revisit memories I’m sure were hidden for a reason.
“I know I should go back, to figure out what’s true, but how can I when I don’t know the whole story…All I have are these pieces of…feeling…nothing really. Not anything I could use to help, anyway.” I cracked my knuckles, loudly, a nervous habit. But why was I nervous? I sat on my hands to keep them still. My legs bounced up and down instead.
Hunched over, I looked at the recorder on the table. The continuous spinning made me self-conscious. Who would listen to me? All I knew were those who came into my room daily. Stone-faced physicians who thought I was crazy anyway. I guess for good reason. I was called in because of the chunk of time missing from our collective memory. And they wanted to help me…get the time back? Find the truth?
“You’re looking for the truth, right? What happened during the missing time…but I can’t give that to you. It’s not my fault,” I stammered, “I can’t remember!” I sounded angry…too loud…it was pointless to yell. I was alone. In a room. With a table, a chair, white walls, and my funny valentine, the recorder.
My legs were bouncing too hard now to be comfortable in my position. Releasing my hands, I stood, grabbed the recorder and hurled it against the wall. I loved the sound the pieces made as they ricocheted against the walls. The spinning subsided…