And the Sun Sets for You
It was sunset—it was always sunset when the haze of the corruptive darkness lifted. He would lumber towards the beach in his haze, not knowing anything but hunger until he saw the sunset. The golden colors of the sky were strong reminders of his past, and they would lift the haze and, for a few fleeting moments, he would remember.
He would remember his home, what it looked like, the marble buildings topped with crimson and gold. The pure magic that was in the air. The smiles of the people. The calls of the merchants. The animals ridden by the wealthy. The fountains in the plaza. The green grass outside town.
He could never remember the name of his hometown.
He would then remember people. They would be muddy memories, with fuzzy beginnings and ends, but they were sharp in comparison to the haze he was always in.
He would remember faces—of people who mattered to him and people who didn't. And there—there was the face of his best friend, laughing so hard that tears had come to his eyes.
He would sit down where he was standing at that point, only to find sand underneath him. He was at the beach. He always remembered at the beach.
He remembered the reason why his best friend was laughing so hard. He had told him that he was going to propose to the woman he loved as soon as she arrived in the tavern. They had met there beforehand, so that he would have support for what he was about to do, though he had neglected to tell his friend the reason for the meeting until the very last moment. And for good reason—his friend was a gossip, and he wanted the proposal to be a surprise.
The expression on his best friend's face when she said yes was priceless.
It was one of his fondest memories, yet…he couldn't remember his best friend's name.
He would get glimpses of other memories. One is of his wedding, with his wife in beautiful silk and a smile so radiant it rivaled the sun. He would remember his best friend's wedding next, with the man practically unrecognizable without his usual smile that radiated confidence.
He would remember his three girls. The eldest was responsible, always helping her mother around the house. She was also the most serious about her education. The middle one loved people, and was often surrounded by friends. The youngest was artistic, and all of the walls in their home were covered with her parchment that bore paintings and designs.
But he couldn't remember their names. He couldn't remember anyone's names.
He remembers what he considers to be the happiest day of his life. It was a family reunion. He and his brother had returned from gathering firewood, each with a large bundle of wood in their arms. They had been talking and laughing about the days of old when they were carefree children without a worry in the world. While his brother had gone on ahead towards the bonfire, he had stood there, taking in the scene that lay before him. The children were playing, and their screams could be heard all the way across the camp. The women were all together near the bonfire, talking and laughing while they prepared the food. As he approached the camp, he heard his wife calling for lunch, and all of the children stopped playing and raced over. He had watched with a happy smile as his three daughters stopped to hug their mother before taking their plates to the table.
He had felt so blessed that day to be surrounded by people he knew and loved.
Yet, the names of these people escaped him. He could remember every detail about them, but not their names. Never their names.
As the sun's radiance began to wane and the blackness of the night took over the sky, so too, did the darkness in his heart. He remembered the dark memories that followed such bright and happy ones. People disappearing. First strangers, then people he distantly knew. Then, his relatives.
Then his brother.
Then his best friend.
The last two happened at the same day—he heard the news of his brother's disappearance in the morning, and his best friend's after sundown.
He and his family had grieved all night, and, in the morning, he resolved to go out and find them. He would rescue them from whatever evil that had taken them.
He had kissed his wife farewell that morning while she did her best to hold back her tears. His daughters, however, cried openly, begging him not to leave. He kissed each of them in turn and promised a swift return.
He never saw them again.
He had returned a few weeks later with dismal news of the deaths of his brother and best friend at his hand, as they had become monstrous creatures, nothing but power hungry shades of what they used to be. He had returned…to find his home in ruins. His wife, dead; his children, missing. The whole town had been turned into a dark wasteland.
And when the creatures came…He gave in.
There was nothing left, he had thought, he had nothing to lose.
At the beginning, they took his freewill. At the end, they had taken everything that defined him as a man, as a person. The only thing he knew by the end was the dark haze that would be momentarily lifted whenever he saw the sunset.
As the sun completely disappeared from the sky, he felt the dark haze set in. He didn't try to fight it—he had given up that battle long ago. He stood up and wandered away from his place at the beach, lumbering towards a power source he could devour, not knowing when the next time he would see the sunset will be.