Memoria - Pages 32 & 33

Memory Introduction - Pages 32 & 33-ish

Salty granules whip through salty air and fly through now-salty wisps of hair that whip against The Boy's cheek. Chunks of dirt crunch underneath his boots as he makes his way across the long abandoned road. Now surrounded by trees, the sound of silence encroaches upon his incessantly noisy universe. The sea stretches out before his eyes. The only sounds left are the wind and the waves; both crashing interminably against whatever has the gall to interrupt their serendipitous journeys. He reaches down and grinds sand slowly between his thumb and index finger.

—To see the world in a grain of sand.

The Boy is as surprised as his surroundings at the suddenness of the adage as well as the new rasp his voice had acquired. The silky tone of his vocal cords had temporarily shifted to the earthy husk that always reminded him of a rasp rubbing against tree bark.

Dust flies off long locked tumblers as they turn rapidly within his mind. He slowly opens his palm so the remaining particles of sand are swept from their hitherto resting place of infinity into a spiraling tailspin. His eyes watch each granule without seeing any. The sand has unconsciously mimicked the vortex that has overtaken his conscious being. He slowly travels down the hallowed hallways of long repressed experiences ushered deep within his psyche. Memories he himself had locked behind thick, ancient oaken doors with rusty hinges and dust-caked jambs. He knows exactly where it is, but it has always been too painful to remember in its entirety. Yet he finally finds the right key and the day comes flooding back, overtaking his conscious mind with its force.

Memoria - The Boy

The streetlight above flashes red and green simultaneously. Smoke rises from a car askew on the sidewalk with a streetlight pole sticking out of its hood. People run around the street like chickens with their feet cut off. The Boy sits calmly amidst the chaos. He slowly raises his head at the commotion. His azure eyes slink out of the shadow made by the brim of his jet black fedora. He runs two fingers up and down the two-day growth of stubble along his jaw line and fixes his gaze toward the low rumbling of an approaching motorcycle motor. As it passes without coming into his visual range, he turns his zirconian eyes back to the smoking car. He studies the wreckage, his eyes crawling slowly, purposefully across the scene. It had happened minutes ago. He watched it happen from where he sat; a raving lunatic who drove into a street pole. He then jumped out of the car, claimed to have seen God fly out of the street lamp and proceeded to sprint down a back alley, presumably giving chase to the deity.

The Boy's eyes narrow on a tuft of blond hair peeking over the edge of the back window. He looks at the smoke rising from the engine block. The Boy stands. His hands ripple with burn scars as the sunlight illuminates the subtle waves of scar tissue. He unbuttons his suit jacket and straightens his impressive, subtly pinstriped suit. He pulls the fedora off his head as if a princess was standing in front of him and allows his haphazardly styled, chestnut-colored hair to fall over his forehead. He softly places the hat on the bench behind him. The Boy breaks into a dead sprint.

The Boy weaves between the people running away from the car and the people running after the driver. He slams into the back door as the first tendrils of flame spiral out from beneath the hood. He pulls the small child from the car and carries him away from the wreck. He sets the child down near the bench and turns back to the car. The Boy stands with the child and watches the car explode in a ball of flame. He tousles The Kid's hair.

"Beautiful, eh?" The Boy says softly. The Kid simply nods his head as the flames dance in the mirrors of his eyes. The Boy turns and picks up his hat from the bench behind him. He slips it onto The Kid's head and it falls over his ears and covers his eyes.

"Ehh, you'll grow into it," The Boy chuckles and smiles as he walks away humming "Sympathy for the Devil."