HOME | DD

Description
Sarah sat alone, perched on the edge of a short wall that overlooked the river. In the sunrise it glowed yellow, the soft light giving everything around a hazy look. She sighed and leant back, lying on the dewy grass. She lifted an arm, held it up against the distant sun; the silhouette glared back at her, not hers any longer.

She tried to remember what had actually happened that left her here, but her mind was as hazy as the morning air; little clouds of insects buzzed incessantly over the water, spinning around in confusion.

As the sun rose higher, she let her mind wander in the hope that it would find an emotion, a memory. Something she could feel, and feel like it was real. She knew she was living in a dream world anyway, so her memories would have been far more real than this. If she actually had any, that is.

Eventually her mind stumbled across something in the darkness, presenting it at the forefront of her brain. All at once her senses were taken over by the event, consuming her and bringing her back there. She felt solid pavement beneath her, warm in the sun under her bare feet. Looking around, she saw she was in a quiet neighbourhood. Home.

“What just happened?” she whispered to herself, taking a step forward. Everything felt vivid, real; it was just as she remembered it, right down to the fine details of the neighbours’ flowerbeds. She tried to look at her body but her head wouldn’t move down; then she realised she didn’t have any control over herself. Her mind desperately tried to control her, do anything for itself, but found itself relegated to the role of a spectator. No, it wasn’t vivid. It was too vivid, too bright, too vibrant for its own good; the colours stung her eyes, the heat stung her hair. And as she helplessly watched from inside her own eyes, she lifted a brick, urged on by jeering in the back of her mind, telling her to keep doing it, just throw the damned thing already! The her she was experiencing closed its eyes; Sarah could just see the red circled dancing on the eyelids, the blood rushing to her brain in her concentration.

The her she experienced threw the brick; it arced through the air and shattered the glass of the window. There was a shriek and a thud from inside.

She woke back up, heart pounding, with half of her body sunken into the mud of the riverbed. She gasped, shocked, sank under the water; hauled herself onto the shore, spluttering and staring around.

It was somewhat different here to what she remembered (if I’m actually remembering, she thought to herself); the grass wasn’t quite so lush, and the sun had a dim quality to it, still rising in the distance. Turning her head, the too-perfect cottage she lived in had vanished as well. Standing up, she wandered along, in control of her own body again; she saw familiar faces, all frozen and not really there.

It finally clicked to her. She was exploring her own mind.

A small white ball hovered in front of her, beckoning her to touch it. She stared at it for a moment, backing away. Is that a memory? She thought to herself. She tried to recall if she’d touched one before now; as far as she could tell she hadn’t done so on purpose. Looking around there were more of them, all different colours, shapes and sizes; all of them pulsing and flickering in and out of focus.

How did I get here? She thought. She tried to speak out loud, but no words came out; instead they echoed all around her, the inside of her mind speaking to her with its own speaker. How can I get out?

She reached towards the memory, hesitating. Before she made her decision, it lurched towards her, thrusting her into her own life of the past.

She was now sitting in the cool evening on a river bank, just like the one she was on before. Next to her was a teenaged boy; her past self looked down at their linked hands. She moved closer to him; here it was sunset, not sunrise.

And right there and then, her first love broke up with her. She once again felt the tears, rolling down her face and into her lap; the sunset’s beauty had no chance against the raw emotions she’d felt back then.

Another rush of air, and she woke back up again. And again, things were different; instead of a pristine white cottage, she stood by the dried up riverbed, and next to her was a burnt out shack, neglected and forgotten. The sun above cast only the barest flickering glow. Looking back up the river she could see nothing until the horizon; in the other direction, an abyss, echoing of the forgotten.

I don’t have anything else to do, she thought, the vibrations shaking loose some of the wooden wall planks of the shack. She walked through the opened doorway, the lost scent of beauty hitting her nostrils in a strange way. The balls she found in the one-roomed building were far simpler than the others, just tiny dim globes that made an aching rumble sound. She reached out to one of them, and as she touched it, she was overcome with one overpowering sense: the scent of wild flowers in the spring. She returned to the room a second later, the sphere gone. Touching another, she found the taste of her mother’s cooking; in another sphere still, she found her first kiss. Her favourite childhood toy; her marriage ceremony. Her son’s first word.

And at the end of the room, which stretched impossibly for hundreds of metres, was a bed. She felt all of the memories she’d experienced gathering around her. Taking a deep breath, and controlling the memories with her mind, she placed every memory outside of the hut into it. She put her regrets to bed, her joys and happiness following her out of the forgotten house with a brighter glow.

Description
Sarah sat alone, perched on the edge of a short wall that overlooked the river. In the sunrise it glowed yellow, the soft light giving everything around a hazy look. She sighed and leant back, lying on the dewy grass. She lifted an arm, held it up against the distant sun; the silhouette glared back at her, not hers any longer.

She tried to remember what had actually happened that left her here, but her mind was as hazy as the morning air; little clouds of insects buzzed incessantly over the water, spinning around in confusion.

As the sun rose higher, she let her mind wander in the hope that it would find an emotion, a memory. Something she could feel, and feel like it was real. She knew she was living in a dream world anyway, so her memories would have been far more real than this. If she actually had any, that is.

Eventually her mind stumbled across something in the darkness, presenting it at the forefront of her brain. All at once her senses were taken over by the event, consuming her and bringing her back there. She felt solid pavement beneath her, warm in the sun under her bare feet. Looking around, she saw she was in a quiet neighbourhood. Home.

“What just happened?” she whispered to herself, taking a step forward. Everything felt vivid, real; it was just as she remembered it, right down to the fine details of the neighbours’ flowerbeds. She tried to look at her body but her head wouldn’t move down; then she realised she didn’t have any control over herself. Her mind desperately tried to control her, do anything for itself, but found itself relegated to the role of a spectator. No, it wasn’t vivid. It was too vivid, too bright, too vibrant for its own good; the colours stung her eyes, the heat stung her hair. And as she helplessly watched from inside her own eyes, she lifted a brick, urged on by jeering in the back of her mind, telling her to keep doing it, just throw the damned thing already! The her she was experiencing closed its eyes; Sarah could just see the red circled dancing on the eyelids, the blood rushing to her brain in her concentration.

The her she experienced threw the brick; it arced through the air and shattered the glass of the window. There was a shriek and a thud from inside.

She woke back up, heart pounding, with half of her body sunken into the mud of the riverbed. She gasped, shocked, sank under the water; hauled herself onto the shore, spluttering and staring around.

It was somewhat different here to what she remembered (if I’m actually remembering, she thought to herself); the grass wasn’t quite so lush, and the sun had a dim quality to it, still rising in the distance. Turning her head, the too-perfect cottage she lived in had vanished as well. Standing up, she wandered along, in control of her own body again; she saw familiar faces, all frozen and not really there.

It finally clicked to her. She was exploring her own mind.

A small white ball hovered in front of her, beckoning her to touch it. She stared at it for a moment, backing away. Is that a memory? She thought to herself. She tried to recall if she’d touched one before now; as far as she could tell she hadn’t done so on purpose. Looking around there were more of them, all different colours, shapes and sizes; all of them pulsing and flickering in and out of focus.

How did I get here? She thought. She tried to speak out loud, but no words came out; instead they echoed all around her, the inside of her mind speaking to her with its own speaker. How can I get out?

She reached towards the memory, hesitating. Before she made her decision, it lurched towards her, thrusting her into her own life of the past.

She was now sitting in the cool evening on a river bank, just like the one she was on before. Next to her was a teenaged boy; her past self looked down at their linked hands. She moved closer to him; here it was sunset, not sunrise.

And right there and then, her first love broke up with her. She once again felt the tears, rolling down her face and into her lap; the sunset’s beauty had no chance against the raw emotions she’d felt back then.

Another rush of air, and she woke back up again. And again, things were different; instead of a pristine white cottage, she stood by the dried up riverbed, and next to her was a burnt out shack, neglected and forgotten. The sun above cast only the barest flickering glow. Looking back up the river she could see nothing until the horizon; in the other direction, an abyss, echoing of the forgotten.

I don’t have anything else to do, she thought, the vibrations shaking loose some of the wooden wall planks of the shack. She walked through the opened doorway, the lost scent of beauty hitting her nostrils in a strange way. The balls she found in the one-roomed building were far simpler than the others, just tiny dim globes that made an aching rumble sound. She reached out to one of them, and as she touched it, she was overcome with one overpowering sense: the scent of wild flowers in the spring. She returned to the room a second later, the sphere gone. Touching another, she found the taste of her mother’s cooking; in another sphere still, she found her first kiss. Her favourite childhood toy; her marriage ceremony. Her son’s first word.

And at the end of the room, which stretched impossibly for hundreds of metres, was a bed. She felt all of the memories she’d experienced gathering around her. Taking a deep breath, and controlling the memories with her mind, she placed every memory outside of the hut into it. She put her regrets to bed, her joys and happiness following her out of the forgotten house with a brighter glow.