Chapter 2: Queen's Blade


She thought the night was blue when she left the train station.

Look above. Look down. Look to your sides. What do you see? A sea of greying depression.

Where are you going? He wanted to ask her. Don't go there; you will die.

I don't mean to kill you. But sometimes, I really can't help it.

But in the end though, it's all my fault.


-Daybreak-

A gentle ray of sunlight hit her eyes. Pale-ish blue. Just like the underwater world where she used to visit as a child. It was eerie, but it sure was pretty.

How long has it been? She asked herself quietly. It almost seemed like a century since her parents were alive and well, and taken her to the zoo. Adolescence was hard; adulthood was even harder. Living by earning every bit of money she could find. Tired, ragged and slowly wasting away; she felt those were the most appropriate terms to describe her.

Where will you go? She asked herself silently. To the university she 'called' home? Back to that empty, half-burned remnant of history? Every bit of the past was destroyed in the fire. There is no going back.

But at the end of the day, where will you go? Who are you? Where do you belong? Are you truly your own person? What would you do if the whole world comes crashing down on you?

Yes, the whole world is crashing down onto me. I guess that is the price of my freedom. It is not the first time, neither is it the last time.

Maybe, she thought as she lingered by her window, maybe, one day I will belong somewhere.

-unknown time, unknown place-

She wandered along the old alleys in some hidden part of the city. Of course, it was raining again. The smooth droplet of water running over the stones, washing them, fading them into eventual greyness. Every stone told a story; some are simply too smooth but beaten, while others are just...too new. As if they are a mere sacrifice for the city.

The world is quiet here, amidst the rain and fog shrouding the city.

I like it.

It is simple statement that is often forgotten in this city. Hardly no-one thinks it anymore. True, there is nothing to love about it; not amongst the greying clouds and constant rainfall. But there was simplicity in it.

'What do you love about it?'

'Everything that has nothing to do with this world.'

'Are you implying that perhaps we are not part of this world?'

'I never said we; I never intended to bother with you in the first place. And, I never implied that I am not from this world.'

'But you clearly appreciate the more existentialistic aspect of the world than the actual.'

'So? Imaginary is always better than real. Most of the times.'

'But isn't reality far more tangible and more easily under your control than the imaginary?'

'The whole point of an imaginary world is so that it's solely under your control. However, in the real world, there are so many interconnected links that it becomes impossible to determine what caused what, precisely.'

'Yet to what extent are you in full control of your characters? Don't you find that you are obeying the wish or the likely action of a character? In that sense, I believe, you are not freer than the real world.'

'Have you forgotten the entire point of ambiguity? There are a set of consequences that could happen; no-one said your character has to follow a particular pathway.'

'But let's face the reality, how often does a book not follow the mainstream cliches and tropes?'

'Sir,' she finally stood up and faced him, 'please let me remind you to not insult my novels. Whether you agree with my profession or not, I do not care. But I do mind you criticising my book without having read it first.'

The sun was just hiding behind the cloud when she left; leaving a bleak streak of light in the background.

She heard some quiet whispering after she walked away. Yet she never bothered to find out what it was.

-Dawn-

'Do you remember me? I'm just a distant figure from your past; you associate no sounds or concrete memory with me. Yet, I hope, and I can only hope, that one day you will remember me.'

She dreamt about it again last night. This time it wasn't about darkness and gradually losing herself in the maze, Rather, it was her crying out for someone. Only to be answered with a blade swiftly coming down on her, splattering blotches of red and whiteness everywhere. Across the canvas that she called dreams.

-Fin-

Don't hurt me. The Queen's Blade is far too sharp and cold for the night.

Don't hurt me. I don't want my blood to drench your eyes.

I want to remember you. The laughing, happy you from so long ago. yet I fear that this is too much to ask.

Is it too much to ask? I hope you will come back to me, one day, someday.


Disclaimers: As much as I'd like to own Amnesia, I do not own it.