She felt lighter after that. It still hurt, seeing the places she had taken Ceit to, but it didn’t send her spiraling anymore. Her cat made sure she went outside enough, seemingly worried that she would relapse if she didn’t get out every day, and he was probably right. She had to focus on a day at a time, on enjoying each moment of the day. And it helped, having him around. He didn’t hold her abandonment against her. She wasn’t sure she would have been as forgiving, if their positions were switched.

‘You’re such a gracious friend,’ she cooed to him, dangling a string of wiring for him to bat at. He sat up, looking very proud, the string dangling from his mouth, its frayed end caught in his sharp canines. He didn’t bring her anywhere new for a while, cycling between her favorite locations instead. The bodega with abundance of various fruits, the green house with carnivorous plants, the tree with her favorite raccoon family, the raccoon babies now fully grown racoons themselves.

They never returned to the cemetery, and Alene knew she had been allowed to see something sacred. She appreciated it, and recognized the value of the gift she had been given. And it helped, knowing that someday, somewhere, someone would love her.

There was plenty of life in the city, she abruptly realized one day. She had been looking at it all wrong. It didn’t matter that there were no humans. There were deer, bounding gracefully between trees, birds aflutter in the canopy above, furry rodents scurrying about in the underbrush, wild dogs roaming streets. All manner of animals lived and died in the city, she shouldn’t be so fixated on humans. They were just one of many, caught up in their own lives, just as any other.

She had been dreaming more, dreams of Ceit and her possible journeys had been overtaken by dreams of soaring above a city teaming with people, swooping happily and riding the breeze. New dreams of a deep dark forest. She was quite sure she had never been to such a place, limited as she was to the city by the shore. She wondered if this too was a figment of her imagination, a form of self comfort. They certainly felt comforting, the deep solemn comfort of a mother’s womb.

And then it happened. Her cat had finally brought her to a new location, a small apartment room, one of many just like it in a complex. Nothing special. Just another one bedroom like any other. She reached to turn on a light. Without even looking to see if there was a switch there, as if it were natural for her to do so. Was this a memory? She looked at her hand, bewildered by the involuntary action, as if it would have the answers. ‘Did I live here?’ She asked no one, except her cat, who looked at her, head tilted, considering. ‘Have you been bringing me to places I should know? Do you know me?’ She had so many questions, her head whirling with them, like how a cat could still be alive for long enough to know her as a human. But she supposed this wasn’t exactly an ordinary cat, possibly a cat god, even. ‘Who am I to you?’ she asked, accusatory, frowning at him. He didn’t respond, but rather left the room entirely. Typical cat. Bringing her so close to a memory and then just, just abandoned her. Well, at any rate she was annoyed at him. She huffed, exacerbated.

She explored her old room, trailing her fingers along the walls, feeling the familiar bumps and divots in the paint. She assumed it was hers, but it seemed a safe assumption. She supposed it could have been someone else’s room, but there were things there that were so like her to collect, brightly colored egg shells, feathers of dozens of different birds, buttons with so many different shapes. And the lanterns she loved making. This was her room, once. She was sure of it. And there was her bedding, all twisted up, just the way she liked to sleep.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

With all the bird paraphernalia she wondered if she had been a devotee of the church. The church of Avis. That’s what the text in her book shelf read, titles with fancy swirling script, with gilded covers and gold leafed pages. A great bird god whose benevolence protected the city. Hm. That seemed to lend credence to the theory that the corpse of the creature was Avis, bird god of the city. Perhaps when the city died the god died? She wasn’t sure about devotee-patron relationships. Did one rely on the other to survive, symbiotic? Parasitic? The text wasn’t too helpful, mostly a list of the different benevolent actions of Avis. Her old self had made some annotations, apparently finding some of the offerings more interesting than others. She had also made some cute doodles in the margins, tiny birds in flight, baby chicks with big eyes. She traced the drawings with her finger tips. She had been here. Her heart beat pounded in her throat, scratchy with rising feelings.

This was the first evidence that she was once a living being in the city during its height. That she had been alive. And she had remembered! Her chest felt tight, the excitement pulsing through her, her breathing quick. She looked around once more, the excitement souring to discontent. She didn’t want to stay here, her human home. It felt wrong somehow, like she was a spector living out someone else’s life. A counterfeit. She couldn’t bear the thought. She was the real one, the real her. That girl had once been alive, but she was here now and that girl was no more. She had expected to feel overjoyed when her memories started to come back, but now she just felt threatened. Maybe Ceit was right, maybe she had forgotten for a good reason.

She fled the room, leaving the book and everything else behind. She might come back later to look around more, but right now she needed some space. She couldn’t breathe, her breath coming faster and faster. She was having a panic attack, she realized, as she stumbled down the apartment building steps, slipping on the last one and catching herself against the far wall. She slid down, with her back against it, legs bent beneath her, burying her face in her knees. How a ghost could have a panic attack when she was more or less all breath was beyond her, the thought coming almost comically at the wrong time. A slightly manic laugh burst out of her chest like a hiccup. A ghost having a panic attack. Why not? Some of the hysteria abated and she got her breathing under control, drawing deep breaths through her nose and wiping up ghostly tears, disappearing into the air as they dripped off her face.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she had such a strong reaction. Maybe it was the abruptness of the memory, just her hand reaching for a light switch, it came so naturally that she almost didn’t notice it. What if she had missed it. A whole new wave of anxiety swept through her. What if she had been missing returned memories this whole time? No. A shudder ran through her. No she couldn’t entertain that thought, she would just spiral further. And if they came once they would come again. She just had to be patient.

Maybe her reaction was because she had been thinking of herself as a single being this whole time, and when she was confronted with her old life it felt as if it were someone else’s. It was a disconcerting feeling to be more than a single person. She wondered if the old her would like the current her. Would they get along? Would she like who she had become? Maybe it was an irrelevant question, there was after all no way for her to meet her old self. She sighed. She should probably head back home. To her skull home, she mentally corrected. Not her human girl’s home.

Was it disrespectful to sleep in a god’s corpse, she idly thought as she walked back. She hoped she wasn’t bringing down curses on herself by accident. Better read that Avis bible. She ran back to fetch it, encountering her cat as she came out the door. She stalled, unsure whether he had seen her crying or not. He had been so supportive of her she didn’t really want to be needy in front of him again so soon. Better play it cool. She brought her hand to her mouth as it opened in a yawn, ‘I’m super tired after all that, all that… well anyway, I'm going to head back home now, feeling pretty sleepy.’ She gave another exaggerated yawn for emphasis, stretching her arms over her head, the book still clenched in her hand. The cat stared at her unamused, and with a flick of his tail that was somehow dismissive, led the way back.