Me: Well, recently I watched the PewDiePie let's play of Ib and I literally became obsessed with it. Ib, I mean, not the let's play. I like it sooooo much *implodes*. Well, anyway I was inspired to write this so I hope you enjoy it.
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"Do you ever regret it?" a woman asked her one day. Ib knew the woman from somewhere, she couldn't recall from where though. The only features she noticed about that woman was her long brown hair and the red dress that seemed a little too perfect on her. Ib noticed something clutched in the woman's hand, but because the woman cradled the object against her chest, Ib didn't know what the object could be.
"What do you mean?" Ib replied, and stared hard at the woman's clenched fist. She saw something…blue.
"Do you regret going to that museum and destroying Mary?" the woman elaborated. Ib stared at the woman in confusion for only a short moment before racking her brain to discover what she was referring to.
"Um…I don't know what you're talking about…" Ib admitted.
"…I see. Well, you did go through a lot. I'm afraid you're gonna have to try harder. I know you remember, Ib, deep down anyway. And I know you still have that candy, you always carry it with you. Why is that, Ib? Why would you carry the same piece of candy with you for 9 years without eating it or questioning where it came from?" the woman asked. Ib couldn't answer that, not when she was so unsure about the answer herself.
She never knew why she carried that lemon flavored candy in her bag, and she never knew why she hadn't just eaten it.
And she still didn't know who gave her that candy that was so special to her.
"I-…I don't know what your talking about," Ib muttered. Still, if that were true then why were her hands clenching at her skirt, and why couldn't she look that woman in the eye?
"Try and remember it, Ib, I know you can. Can you even remember me, after all I did to you? You should remember this. I know you were disoriented, but the memories still exist," the woman said. Her smile was gentle…but that was wrong. Ib felt deep down somewhere that such a smile didn't belong on that woman…but how could she think that? She'd never even met the woman before.
"I'm sorry…but I'm trying to enjoy my visit here. I don't know what you're talking about, and your starting to bother me," Ib told the woman. The woman's smile turned fierce, but Ib still didn't find that fitting. She turned to look at the large painting that Ib had been admiring before she'd been interrupted.
"Tell me, Ib, what's the name of this painting?" the woman asked.
"Garry," Ib answered without hesitation. The name had just flown off her lips like it belonged there. The woman's smile grew, almost insanely (which Ib had to admit fit her quite well).
"Garry…you say? But I thought it was called the 'Forgotten Portrait'," the woman sneered. Everything slowed down for Ib had that crucial moment.
Why did I call him Garry? Why…why…WHY?! That's not his name so why did I say that…? It had to have been a mistake, right? No…that's definitely the name of the portrait, definitely! Ib's thoughts were frantic. After so long…she didn't want to admit it to herself. She turned to the portrait and read the description…only to discover that the name of the portrait was Forgotten Portrait.
"But…" Ib whispered. Her head hurt, so bad that she wanted to sit down…or get some sugar in her system. Still, she doubted she could finally eat that lemon candy after so many years of lying in her bag.
But it didn't stop it from sounding so enticing.
"You're starting to remember! Ib, please remember, trust me…this is important!" the woman exclaimed. Ib's fingers twitched into her bag and wrapped around the lemon candy. Now, standing before her favorite painting, the painting she visited daily, and sometimes spoke to when no one else was around, it felt so right to eat the sweet candy. She stared at the frayed wrapper that crinkled around the delicious treat she never tasted.
"Why is something like this so special?" Ib spoke so softly to herself that the woman barely heard her.
"Eat it, Ib, and find out," the woman said. Ib unraveled the foil.
I'm gonna get so sick for this Ib thought and plopped the sweet treat into her mouth. The candy was stale but still held the faint traces of lemon. It tasted delicious, but also disgusting. Ib didn't want to spit it out. Ib turned to look at the painting. He was really quite beautiful for a boy. If Ib could even say, she would say that the one man in the world she loved was the one in that painting.
"…Garry…" Ib whispered and closed her eyes. In an instant, it all came flowing back. Almost painfully so. Every memory that she spent in that twisted world. And with those memories came tears, Ib forced herself against the wall to support herself.
"I see you remember now. Just one question, do you regret destroying Mary?" the woman asked. Ib closed her eyes as more tears started falling.
"Never," Ib whispered. Mary had been a good friend to her, but she could never forgiven after what she'd done to Garry's rose.
"That's good to hear, because if you did I wouldn't be able to give you this," the woman replied and revealed what she'd been clutching against her chest. It was a blue rose, slightly wilted and slightly faded, but still beautiful and full. It was Garry's rose. Ib shakily removed herself from the wall in surprise to grab the blue rose.
"How did you…who are you?" Ib asked.
"That picture seems to be missing something. I think you'd better give him the rose," the woman said. Ib, as suspicious as she was, had to admit that the woman had a point. Ib turned to the painting and outstretched the rose until the petals were touching Garry's hands. There was a large flash and the painting smashed open as Garry tumbled out of it. He crashed onto the ground.
Ib looked around frantically for the woman, only to find a small, creepy doll from that twisted world lying on the ground.
"Only…one can leave," it whispered.
Ib turned away from it to see Garry pulling himself off the ground, disoriented.
"What? Where am I?" Garry asked in confusion. He was still the same age as Ib remembered him to be when she first met him. She supposed paintings didn't age like humans.
"You're home, Garry. Sorry it took me so long to find you, but I'm glad we got to meet again."
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Me: Weeeeelllll, that's it. Let me know whether or not an epilogue shall be written and review, don't be shy!