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I shut my eyes. A flashback instead of a vision came to me.
"Layla, do you know the legend of Alice?"
Which Alice?, I thought. There was a girl in a story that had fallen down a rabbit hole to be at the mercy of a world where everyone was mad, but this was a legend not a story.
"Who is Alice?" I asked the man I cannot name. His face was a blur, he was someone I knew I shouldn't forget, but the human's capacity for memory is something you should not forget to question. A human's memory blurs, creating confusion, while at the same time making the memory glitter, so that it comes up as something better than it was. A memory is the past, if you cannot remember, that maybe it should never have happened. These are my thoughts of the current, not of the young innocent asking the most important question I will face throughout my entire life, as well as many other lives to top, all of them but one. But this is later, this is a flashback.
The man patted my head, and in a melancholy voice replied, "Alice is me, is you, and is everyone else. She gave her very being to the flows of time to not be remembered once."
I looked up at him, very curious with his answer to this next question.
"But how do you remember?"
He looked away, the blur facing away, showing black hair that glinted red in the sunlight in the small meadow where I had run off to cry too, for a very small reason I cannot recall.
He sighed and said, "Because I am time." I did not understand this, nor do I understand this now. He is a human, and a human is incapable of time travel, much less of becoming time. So this leads me to a world of unknowns, a world explored so little by me, not even touched by the rest of humanity.
And, with this, the random memory that has to do nothing with my Father's assassination has come to an untimely end. I was just being included in the world of the past, submerged in happy little moments where a smile wasn't a fake, my father wasn't ignoring the world, and Marigine had yet to enter my life. Most of all... when Mother was alive. 'Insanity' you may call it, but I find it quite comforting, a world where problems are nightmares that never happen to you, but the population you never see.
I am hysterically dawdling, aren't I? You see, I tend to think very much, so much I just stare off. Not that this will help me either, hmm? I also tend to go through the many choices my life tends to include, all ending in a horrible scenario. I didn't go to a flunkee middle school or elementary, it happened when Marigine came with a cheap copper wedding band on her left hand ring finger.
I also remember when father came smiling at me and said, "Mother has come home." But I also remember his eyes tightly closed as he smiled at me.
Father than began coming home later than usual, extending his shifts. Afterall, I was a growing girl, but really, Marigine was the only one growing.
At first my growling stomach saddened me, but I felt this Feeling growing. The feeling you would call hate, I would call it a 2 person ticket to hell.
This feeling.. made the number of my visions increase. But also... nightmares. I had nightmares of a girl that looked like me, but wasn't me running through a forest, a shadow at her heels. She looked terrified, like she was spun away from happiness to turn towards the inevitable tragedy. She looked confident though, like she had God behind her, pushing her towards a shining destiny. But her destiny was only a silly dream, I knew it was impossible, but I didn't know what the dream was.
I hit my head against the wall. I hoped for a giant blow that would send me out of my body, like a celestial spirit that can indirectly save the people she cares about. Don't blame me, I saw it on a drama when I was ten, the show was openended though, the producers went broke.
I got up, swiveling side to side, not at all graceful.
If anything was going to happen, I was going to be the one pulling the strings.
- Title: Shameless 9
- Artist: Syphllis
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Description:
In the many worlds that we manage to live in without knowing there are others, there is a single being that is cursed to live through them all, one tragic life at a time. From abuse to sacrifice, she does suffer it all. She is the lock and key to the truth she is looking for, the truth of Alice.
Part 3 of Layla, the Artistic One. - Date: 03/20/2010
- Tags: shameless
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