Why is it, in the middle of the night, when all is quiet and peaceful, I remember things I shouldn't?
The rotten smell of death and decay. Screams of tortured prisoners. Vibrant scarlet blood pouring from veins. Lancing pain. All encompassing fear. Sickly yellow eyes. The flash of a red lightsaber. Mandalore's gleaming armor. My own voice, strong and loud, rallying thousands of men standing before me.
But, none of that ever happened. None of it. I had been on Nar Shaddaa during the Mandalorian Wars, not on a Republic ship. Not commanding troops.
"Activate the Mass Shadow Generator."
The words rang through my mind without meaning. What was it I was speaking of? It seemed so familiar to me, somehow, yet so distant, almost as if it was from another life. Most of the things I remember are like that, Malak's face being one of them.
Sometimes I saw him young, vibrant, with his jaw intact. Other images of him were the exact opposite. His eyes were cold, his skin pale, his lower jaw replaced with a grotesque metal plate.
I had done that to him. Somehow, I knew. Somehow, I remembered. He hadn't even had a chance to scream before his jaw was severed by my red lightsaber. He had almost immediately passed out from the pain and shock, yet I had felt no sympathy.
Why do I remember such things? How?
In the middle of the night, when all is quiet and peaceful, and distorted fragments of images float through my mind, I ask myself a question.
Who am I?
But I think I already know.
Author's Note: Don't know where the idea came from. I wrote it in about ten minutes, so I'm certain it isn't my best. But, I kinda like it. So I decided to post it.
-snarryvader81 (aka Anna)