Hidden Memories & Unkept Promises

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and taking a moment to assure myself I was still in the safety of my home. By the dim light of the moon that streamed through the window, I could recognize the familiar setting of my bedroom. I sat staring at the wall in front of me, the blankets tied in knots at the base of my bed after being kicked away in my fright.

Once the fear left behind by my nightmare had at last subsided, I stood up, and moving as quickly as possible when you've just awoken from a deep sleep, I walked to my desk and took a seat.

"Write them down," had been Jackie's advice to me when we'd spoken about the nightmares that had haunted me ever since she and her husband Tom had taken me in eleven years ago. "You say you remember them only after waking up, then why not write them down then?"

When the idea was first suggested I was dead set against it. For years I'd lived a normal life despite the mysterious disappearance of my memories of the five years before I'd been found and taken in by Jackie, and despite the horrific nightmares that haunted me night after night. I was aware that these nightmares―although they were always gone from my memory when I awoke the next morning―may hold a clue to the mysteries of my past, but for a very long time I had no desire to know any more about where I came from than the story of how Jackie had found me.

For a eleven years I'd lived happily on a small farm just outside of a small quiet town in Northern Corsica that Jackie and Tom had moved to after Tom had returned from fighting in the war. I lived a simple life with a wonderful family made up of their son John, myself, and of course Jackie and Tom, who―although they were undoubtedly worthy of being called my parents―were always referred to by me as just that, perhaps because the memory of another mother and father still lingered subconsciously in my mind.

As I grew older my curiosity grew with me, and I soon knew there was nothing that could stop me from at least trying to learn the secrets of my past. That is how I came to be sitting before the first page of a blank notebook, while the memory of a nightmare sat fresh in my mind.

I hesitantly lifted my pencil, and began to describe the tragic events I'd just watched play out in my mind.

…One man moved forward. The satisfied look on his face as he watched my father surrender sent chills down my body.

"Seize him!" He yelled to the rest of the men.

Three men rushed forward to grab his arms and shove him backward. He did not bother to fight.

I wanted to call out, I wanted to beg him not to do this, for I knew what he was doing, but I had to keep my promise. I said nothing.

They held his hands back and the one who'd spoken walked towards him. I looked away as he slowly raised his gun. I could not watch, I closed my eyes, preparing for the deafening shot that would take yet another loved one from my life…

When I read over what I'd written the next morning it seemed a strange thing the way I seemed so aware of what was going on, and as I'd written it that night everything I'd written had made perfect sense. As I'd written those words I'd understood completely what had been going on in the nightmare, but now that I read them again I remembered nothing, and the only proof that the nightmare had actually occurred were the words upon that page.

I didn't tell Jackie I'd written down one of my nightmares, mostly because after the many times I'd resisted her attempts to make me do something such as this, I knew she would make a big deal out of my finally taking her advice. I did however, tell one person.

The day that followed that night was a warm Friday in the beginning of July. The day had nearly passed and proven itself to be just as uneventful as all those before it, when I wandered out the back screen door and found my way to the tree house Tom had built for John and I many years ago. A nine year old John followed behind me, the image of a nosy little brother as he chased me down and asked what I was doing.

"Go away John." I said. "I just wanted some time to think, that's all." The irritated tone with which I spoke only encouraged him. He continued to question me as I stopped beneath the trunk of the old oak tree that was home to our tree house.

"What's that?" He asked, referring to the leather notebook I held in my hands.

"It's a notebook." I said dismissively. I then proceeded to ignore the rest of the questions he asked as I climbed the old wooden ladder.

Fortunately for me, it didn't take long for John to lose interested what he was doing. He'd barely begun his attempts to follow me into the tree house before he grew tired of irritating me and ran off to do something else.

After that all was quiet and peaceful. By the light of the setting sun I read over what I'd written that night yet again. Still I was no closer to finding any clues within it that would bring me closer to discovering where exactly I had come from. When I came to the conclusion that this particular piece of writing would be of no help I walked to the only window in the small tree house. Leaning against the window sill and staring out at the setting sun, I made a mental list of all that I knew so far.

1) I'd been found by Jackie nearly eleven years ago on September 17, the same day Corsica lost the war and was taken over by Potomac.
2) I'd claimed at the time to be running from "bad people".
3) I'd been found near the town of Herrington, thirty miles southwest of the capitol.
4) I'd had nothing with me but a bloodstained sword.
5) I'd been…

It occurred to me I wasn't even aware of how old I'd been. Jackie had guessed when she said I was five years old, and had simply celebrated the day I'd been found as my birthday. Could I perhaps be younger, or older? When was my birthday anyway? These were the types of questions I longed for answers too.

My list ended there. That and the useless summary of my dream were all I had to start me on my journey to find my past. Somehow I got the feeling I wouldn't be getting very far anytime soon.

"Lovely evening isn't it?" said a voice from below. The sudden interruption of my thoughts was startling, and it took me a moment to notice the person standing below me awaiting a reply.

"Oh," I said when I'd at last come to my senses. "Yes, it is quite lovely."

Tom―who must've been returning from the trip into town he'd left on early this morning―stood beneath me, smiling at the confused way in which I replied.

"The perfect evening to be alone with your thoughts." He said. He knew me well enough to know that was exactly my intent when I'd come out here earlier this evening. "You wouldn't mind if I joined you, would you?"

I returned his cheerful smile as he made his way towards the ladder. "Not at all."

A minute later the trap door opened and Tom appeared, slightly tired from his climb.

"You know, I am much to old to be climbing trees." He said, as he took a seat beside me underneath the window.

"As am I." I replied, pausing a moment to add a dramatic effect to the sentence. "And yet, here we are."

"Here we are." He repeated. "So, we both know that you only venture into the tree house when you've got something on your mind. Might I ask what it is this time?"

Both Jackie and Tom could recognize the distant look that came over me when I was in deep thought, and both seemed to always have a certain desire to know what these thoughts were, but the gentle way Tom asked made it much easier to answer than Jackie's demanding way of asking questions and not giving up until she was given an answer.

"I was thinking about…" I trailed off, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to answer. Tom looked to my notebook, which I still held in my hands.

"What's this?"

"A notebook." I said, remembering fondly the way I'd gotten John to leave me alone earlier and wishing it would be just as easy with Tom.

"Have you written anything in it?"

"I've written one thing…last night." I said. "It's…one of my nightmares." That sentence lasted much longer than it should have.

"Tell me about it."

When this questioning had first begun I'd told myself I’d do my best to keep as much as possible secret, and yet when he may this simple request I found myself telling him everything. I began with explaining how I'd at last decided I must at least try to learn more about where I'd come from, and finished by reading what I'd written last night aloud.

"Well, it's certainly not pleasant, what happened to you that day." Tom said when I'd finished reading.

I looked to him for advice, asking what he thought I should do next. He took a long time coming up with his answer.

"I could tell you should just stay here and wait to see if perhaps these nightmares may reveal the past your searching for, and to be quite honest that is what I wish you would do, but it would not be the quickest path to what you're seeking. If you really want to learn more you must go looking for the information you seek."

I looked at him curiously, unsure of what he was suggesting. "What do you mean?"

"If you really wanted to you could easily go and search for the answers to your questions."

"And how would I do that?"

"To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure. But I do know how you could start." He answered. "Retrace your steps―"

"Starting with the day I was found, in Herrington." I finished for him, suddenly realizing was he was saying.

I considered the idea. At first, it seemed completely pointless and would almost certainly be nothing more than a long difficult journey that would bring me no closer to answering the unanswered questions that had lingered in the back of my mind for eleven years. But, the more I thought about it, the more tempting it became. If nothing else it would certainly be an interesting adventure, and would give me a chance to a escape the dull farm life I knew I could never live forever.

"You don't honestly think that would work, do you?" I said, hoping Tom could talk me out of the unreasonable idea.

"It's worth a try, isn't it?"

That was the answer I'd been expecting, but not the one I'd hoped for. For a brief moment, I came close to saying yes. Yes, I would go, I would say I was searching for my past, but know I was truthfully searching for an adventure. I would leave behind the dull life of this farm, the life that was exactly the same day by day. I opened my mouth to say the word, and then, from somewhere deep within me, my common sense took over.

"It's a nice idea." I said. "But I can't say it would work."

Without another word on the subject I stood up and slid down the tree house ladder. Tom followed closely behind, and together we walked back inside, leaving our conversation behind us.

***

…"I know you're afraid," he said. "I'm afraid too." He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "Alexandra, no matter what happens, I need you to promise you will do one thing."
I had stopped crying long enough to look up at him, staring into his sad eyes, and ask what that one promise might be.
"Promise me, my dear Alexandra, that no matter what happens, you will always be brave."
I hesitated, but finally agreed. "I will, I promise."
He was going to say something else, but at that moment a gun fired nearby and the sound of voices approached. He shoved me back behind the rocks. When he spoke again he spoke quickly and with fear.
"Andra, no matter what happens you must stay quiet, and you must not move. Remember your promise."
He stood up just as the group of soldiers approached. They surrounded him, and he did not even wait for them to speak. He took his sword from its sheath, and for a moment I thought he was going to try and fight them off, but he only stared at it a moment before throwing it to the ground and raising his hands in surrender…

I stared at the paper the next morning, feeling the same strange sensation I had when I'd read the first nightmare I'd written down two weeks before. Just as before I remembered the way I'd been perfectly aware of what was going on within the dream at the time I'd written it down, and yet now as I read it over again I could remember nothing beyond the words that were there.

I sighed and grumpily tossed the notebook aside, then rose from my desk and went to do my morning chores. That seemed a good way to distract myself from the frustration my nightmare had caused me.

Only it wasn't.

As I stood sweeping the front porch I continued to think about the nightmares I'd written down. It wasn't long before my questions found their way into my mind, and Tom's suggestion along with them. Again I considered leaving behind all I knew and loved here at home to go searching for answers I would almost certainly not find.

But what if I did find them?

The common sense that had told me to reject the idea when Tom had suggested it two weeks ago was nowhere to be found, and the temptation of the adventure such a journey would give me was stronger than ever. I would always come back, of course, said a voice within me. And I wouldn't be gone too long…

"Andra!" Jackie called, poking her head out the front door. "For god's sake girl, I've been calling you for the last ten minutes."

"Were you?" I said distractedly. "Sorry. I…didn't hear."

She smiled and shook her head at me. "Always distracted, you are." she said. "I was supposed to ask you if you wanted to go into town with Tom."

"Yes!" I said, a bit too excitedly. My excitement didn't surprise Jackie very much however, because she knew I grew bored all to easily on the farm, and would take any chance I had to leave.

"Well then finish your chores up. And do it quickly, he's leaving in an hour and you're not going until you've finished your work."

And so, after an hour of rushing to finish my chores, I sat beside Tom in the old wagon we'd had as long as I could remember, trudging down the dirt road as fast as our lazy old mule would take us.

When we reached the town Tom set out for the market, while I climbed down from the wagon―promising to meet him there in a half an hour―and made my way over to a group of familiar little children gathered on a street corner.

When I'd been younger I spent most of my time roaming the forests with other children, engrossed in whatever childish game we'd made up for that day. But as time had passed the friends I'd had grew too old for such games, while I did not. This was the reason I had very few friends, and instead spent a good deal of my time talking to the town's children.

"Andra!" called a small girl who's name I remembered to be Alice. She rushed to my side and threw her arms up, signaling for me to pick her up. As I lifted her up, holding her against my side with one arm, another boy came over to me.

"Is John with you?"

"No, he had to stay home." I said. "You know why?"

The now seven children that had gathered around stared upward as though my explanation of why John was not here was the most interesting thing in the world. "He didn't finish his chores." I said, smiling at them. "Now, did you all finish your chores?"

All the children looked away guiltily. "Well then, you'd better go finish them!" I said, setting Alice back on the ground.

Although I was not at all popular among my age group, it was remarkable the influence I had on the younger children of the town. As I spoke all the children rushed off to do as I said, though I had the feeling it wouldn't be long before they got distracted and forgot completely about what I'd told them to do.

I smiled to myself as I continued down the street toward my next stop, the bakery. Jackie had sent me with money and instructions to buy a loaf of bread.

"Morning, Ms. Andra." Said the baker, a tall thin man with graying hair and friendly blue eyes.

"Good morning." I said kindly, approaching the counter.

"Mrs. Webster sent you to buy more bread?"

"Yes, indeed."

One of the benefits of living in a small town such as this one was that everyone in the town knew each other by name. Not once had I seen the baker―whose name I knew to be Mr. McKinney―outside of the small bakery he ran, but so few were the customers the entered that bakery, that he knew the names of all of them.

I took the fresh loaf he'd chosen for me and handed him the money Jackie had given me, tempted for a moment to buy something else when I saw there was change. After resisting this temptation and taking a moment to make polite conversation I left the bakery.

I intended to visit the town's market next, where I planned to wait near the small farm stand that was always Tom's last stop, but I had not gotten very far on my journey to the market before I was interrupted.

"Andra!" someone called from down the street.

I stopped, not needing to turn around to know who it was that called me. I could hear rushed footsteps coming up behind me and I knew exactly why they were so rushed.

"Hello Sienna." I said as she caught up to me. I turned my head to see a familiar red-headed young girl by my side. "Your father trying to get you to help in his workshop again?"

"Isn't he always?" She answered, then grabbed me by the arm and took off down the street, dragging me along behind her. "Come on! The sooner I get out of here the better."

Beyond the town's younger children, I had very few friends, but I was not completely friendless. Among these few friends was Sienna Patrick, the thirteen year old daughter of the town's blacksmith. Mr. Patrick, who had no children but young Sienna, was always trying to get her to help him in his workshop, and to do all the things a son would. Although Sienna loved her father dearly, she did not appreciate this.

I laughed, and followed closely as she raced down the road and towards town square, which was crowded with people on this warm July morning.

"He won't find us here." She said, still out of breath. "It's remarkably easy to go unnoticed in a crowd." Although I didn't know it at the time, this advice would come in handy much later.

"I'm supposed to be going to the market." I told Sienna. I was in no particular hurry to get there―I still had ten minutes left in the half hour I had before I needed to meet Tom―but her comment about hiding in crowds made me think of the large crowd there always was in the market, and I knew if I wasn't careful I may lose track of time, as was very easy with my dear friend Sienna.

"Well, I suppose we could go there." Sienna said. "As long as I can avoid my father I'm happy."

So we took off down the street towards the market, running just because we could and because we enjoyed the feeling of the wind in our hair as we raced down the busy city streets.

The market was an interesting place on a busy morning such as this one. Vendors of all types lined the street that had been the designated location of the morning market for as long as anyone could remember, and people of all sorts made their way down the street searching whatever it was they were in need of on that morning. Men argued over the quality and price of what they were purchasing, while women stood chatting with friends and acquaintances. Children escaped their parents and ran off to fight invisible monsters that roamed the forests, and to hide in invisible fortresses in the treetops. As we stepped into the market Sienna and I became just another piece of this scene.

As we made our way over to a bench to sit down I tripped and dropped my bag, and―much to my embarrassment―spilt its contents across the ground.

"Always so clumsy, Andra!' Sienna teased as she helped me to pick everything up. Her eyes fell upon my leather notebook. She reached down and picked it up.

"What's this?" She asked with a mischievous smile.

"A notebook." I said. It seemed this was becoming my immediate response when I was asked about the journal.

"Just a notebook, you say?" Sienna laughed. "Or is it something more? A diary, perhaps?"

"No, Sienna, it's not a diary." I rolled my eyes and reached to take it from her, but she snatched it away before I could grab it.

We'd now finished gather my things and taken a seat on the bench we'd been headed to. Sienna continued to question me as we sat down.

"What is it then?" She asked, eyeing the journal curiously.

"It's just a notebook, that's all."

"Yes, but what's in it?" Sienna pressed.

"Words, Sienna! It has words in it!"

I was growing frustrated now. Sienna knew the peculiar story of how I'd been found, but she'd never understood that I didn't like to talk about it.

"Well, let's have a look at them…" she said, slowly lifting the cover.

"They're dreams." I said, even though I knew she'd only intended to frighten me into answering by opening the notebook. "Nightmares, some of them."

"Dreams?" Sienna asked, still curious but a little less pushy.

"I guess you could say they're memories. Memories of the day I was found." I answered, then added. "You can read them if you'd like."

"No, that's alright." she said quietly.

For some time after that, neither of us spoke. With the sounds the filled the busy market, however, it was far from silent.

"Do you ever want to know more?" Sienna asked.

I looked away as I gave my answer, thinking of my previous conversation with Tom. "Sometimes."

Again we said nothing for a very long time, until Sienna at last suggested we walk around.

We did just that, walking around the market stopping and saying hello to those that we recognized, which between the two of us was nearly everyone there. We talked to each other about the simple things girls our age have time to worry themselves over, and when we tired of that we took part in a game of tag the younger children had started.

When Tom at last found me long after he'd said he'd be ready to leave, I had no thoughts of my dreams and the temptation of leaving to find more answers. The day's events had been enough to keep me in the quiet old town for just a bit longer.