[open] i've been running from something, any

[Memorie]

one lives in hope of becoming a memory

Much to the dismay of both of my parents, my wandering had not stopped with my adventure to see Grodylin. I had now found myself in different corners of the world, exploring the darkness as I had once explored Taiga, though there seems to be a lot more to discover, now that I had to look more closely than I did before. It helps to have the soft, blue glow that emanates from my little socks, though that was not the only part of me glowing these days. They are still barely visible, but when squinting, one could barely start to make out the wispy shapes of wings growing from my shoulders.

Today, my wanderings bring me to a river. Here, there are many signatures to distract myself with, the hazy remnants of many memories that litter the shores. I had really honed my echoes to the point where I could pick up on even the faintest traces of a memory, though I could not see the memories themselves, I can feel the emotions that had once been there to go along with the memories. There are even familiar memories here. I trace the edges of a memory that bears the distinct trace of my sister and the boy that she shared a connection with. Though I cannot see the memory, I know that this must be where they had met.

I am so absorbed in my thoughts and the residue of Cheri’s memories that I completely miss the presence of another horse on the opposite bank of the river. It is only when he calls out that I am startled from my reveries. I lift my head in a jerking motion to look over at the dark shape from which the voice had come from, and I blink, slightly confused by his question before I realize that he must have come from somewhere else–somewhere where the sun still shone.

“I believe it’s been about a year, now,” I call back. The idea that there might still be a sun somewhere else peaks my interest, though, so I glance at the river hesitantly before I step into its swift current, pushing toward the other side. When I have reached the other side, I stop, looking curiously at the other horse, a grey stallion with the most unusual markings on his sides. Just to confirm my suspicions, I ask, “Does the sun shine elsewhere?”

Memorie

Image by Calcifer

@[rembrandt]