Fire as far as my eyes can see. In it, none are spared; buildings burn, people burn, everything burns. The fire is so hot that the beams of metal which support some of the buildings in my town are melting.
I lie under the charred remains of my older brother. He had saved me from being crushed by a collapsing wall, pulling me away from it only to have his leg staked to the floor by another falling debris. His eyes were white with terror and his lips were forming indiscernible words as a nearby flame caught on to his clothes, gradually setting him alight.
Even through all that pain, he managed to save me. He used his kinsi to create a transparent bubble around me, a thin layer that kept me separated from the heat of the flame that consumed him. Finally, after suffering a great amount, he succumbed to his injuries.
He now lay dead over me, like a charred meat-shield. But this is my brother. He’s dead, and it’s my fault. He died saving me.
I gently move him from over me, and lay him down on the spot where I was saved by him. I can’t bring myself to look at him, but when I touch his skin to move him I can almost feel it. His pain. His skin is undeniably hot, as though it’s still burning even at this moment. Maybe it is, I just can’t look.
I have to get out of here. Our home, our town. It’s being burnt to the ground for whatever reason. The flames that are burning aren’t natural either. Could it be that a group of kinsi users beyond the dream stage decided to destroy my home? Why?
“M—ntra!” I hear a voice calling. I know that name, I know… Why can’t I remember that name? I can hear a sobbing woman, and a man’s low voice as he whispers something. Finally, I open my eyes. Where am I? Who are these people?
“Montra! I’m so glad you’re awake now…” The man says to me.
“Who are you?” I blurt out whilst looking at the man, who looks back at me with twinkling eyes. I open my mouth to ask another question, ‘where am I?’ but before I can, the man asks his own question.
“Do you not remember us, Montra? We’re your parents!” The twinkling in the man’s eyes starts to fade a little bit as he looks for my reaction. I don’t react. I have no idea who these people are. But I guess ‘Montra’ is my name.
“Stop it dear.” The woman now speaks up, the one who was sobbing before. Her eyes are still red and puffy; it seems like something happened to make her so upset. However, just as I’m about to ask another question, a door slides open and a man wearing a lab coat strides through it.
Another man walks in, he’s in a white lab coat, and the nameplate on his chest reads… ‘Dr. Grove’. I make out the name after squinting my eyes, eliciting a chuckle from the man in question.
“Good thing to see that you’re awake now, Ms. Tannik. We were starting to worry that you wouldn’t manage to wake up today.” Doctor Grove says with a laugh. In his hands are some papers attached to a clipboard, he glances at them quickly before looking back at me.
“Mrs. Tannik, Mr. Tannik, I’m glad to say that your daughter is perfectly alright, given that she has a slight loss of memory as a result of the surgery.” He continues. He seems like a nice man; he’s been smiling since he came into what I suppose is my hospital room. But wait…
“Surgery? What did I have surgery for?” I ask mildly, I don’t feel as agitated by my unusual surroundings now that I’m confident there’s someone who can answer my questions.
My parents glance each other in the eyes, seemingly coming to some sort of agreement. The doctor shifts on his feet, before speaking just as my parents open their mouths to say something.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Your surgery was to remove a brain blood clot that was lodged in your brain.” My parents closed their mouths and let the doctor speak.
“We’re going to run some tests, but our analysis shows that you have a high chance of one side effect and only one side effect: memory loss.” Both parents let out a sigh at the doctor’s remark.
“So things that happened to me… I just won’t remember? No friend or family?” The doctor nods at my question.
“But then how can I remember what things are called? How can I still speak English? How can I…” My mother raises a hand to cut me off.
“It’s just one of the wonders of the human brain I suppose.” She says. I ponder this for a bit, but just as I’m about to argue with her about it, she snaps at me.
“Instead of doubting what Doctor Grove is saying, why don’t you just be thankful like we are that you can still function?” Her expression turns cold for a moment, and all of the sudden I realize that I haven’t been taking into account how she’s feeling about this.
Some days later, I’ve finished all of Grove’s psychological testing. I had to talk to many specialists, as part of the testing, but now they’re saying I’m all clear to be discharged from the hospital.
I’ve had more nightmares like the one I remember from when I first woke up in the hospital room. My brother, burnt. My family, destroyed. My home, gone. There’s just one detail that’s missing from all these dreams: people’s faces. Everyone has facial expressions, but I can’t make out their whole face. If I focus, I can see their lips, or their eyes, but I can’t piece them together to make a face. It’s as though there’s a wall that’s preventing me from perceiving further into the nightmare.
On a different side of things, I don’t remember many things about the world it seems. Not only the people inside of it, but some facts as well. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw a person flying through the air. A nurse who was attending me at the time watched me crane my neck towards a window to my bland room, chuckling to himself. When I simply asked, ‘How?’, he responded by saying:
“Kinsi.” I asked him to tell me more, but he shook his head with a sigh.
“I don’t know how people can fly with it. I’m not even a quarter dreamer, the most I can do is lift a grain of sand with mine.” His answer had words I didn’t understand, but he doesn’t explain more before he leaves.
The next day, testing ended and my parents are coming to pick me up from the hospital. Before my parents arrive, the same nurse comes into my room and gave me a book.
“You were interested in kinsi, have a look.” He says. He mentions it was a parting gift from all the staff who helped me as a result of my cooperative behavior, as I open it up.
The book is titled ‘KINetic Synchronizing Integration: genetic modification of the 21st century’. The title is a bit long, but I see that inside it had pictures of people flying through the air seemingly unaided, make fire and bright lights out of nothing, and so on. It was basically a picture book with very few words.
“Thank you so much.” I say. This gift means a lot to me.
We soon part ways, as my parents arrive. I’m on my way towards the home I don’t remember now, a bit nervous and not knowing what to expect.
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Author's note: I introduce a new perspective here, in case anyone was confused. This is a new character, in a new setting.