A/N: Welcome to my new story, enjoy!

Title: Who am I?

Chapter: One: One Rainy Day

Perhaps it was something about me that they didn't like, perhaps some sort of defect. I didn't know, I would never know. My parents--I didn't know who they were, or what they looked like. I didn't know anything that might have been related to me in any sort of way. I had been wandering the streets like a lost kitten searching, and yet for something that I couldn't identify, or clarify for that matter. I didn't feel anger. Who would I divert the anger towards? As soon as anyone saw me, people fled.  I was like a walking ghost whom everyone developed a fear of. I didn't know where I belonged, who I was. I didn't even know my name. How I survived through my infancy was is still a mystery to me. It's as if my memory had been washed away when I awoke one day.

Nothing seemed familiar, and yet it all fit it somehow. I wondered for hours if I had lost my sanity, if I had gone insane. Would someone find me, come and get me? Fill me in the many blanks that are in my memory. My memory has become an empty album book that has never been put a picture in. Never has, never will. I've given up hope of finding any sort of evidence that once, long ago, someone knew of my existence. Perhaps it's just a dream, an ideal. If so, I would like to maintain myself in this state. Perhaps I can continue on like this, maybe...

The day is clouded as if a storm has just passed by, or something has struck with enormous damage. I shrugged it off and go on, walking through the streets. It is raining, the sky full of gloom and waste. I keep walking, my hair getting soaked, blonde strands hanging from my shoulder. Suddenly I hear a voice saying to me; "Are you all right?" I ignore it thinking it's just a figment of my imagination, the yearn for a voice to call out to me. "Excuse me?" I look up and find myself staring at a boy, he seems my age. I hadn't talk to someone in so long that I'd thought that I had forgotten how to speak. "A-are you talking to me?" I asked in a tone that somewhere in my brain rang a bell. "Yeah I am, do you need an extra umbrella--I have one..." I look at the boy. He seemed like he was in a hurry, maybe late to an arranged meeting or appointment. "Why yes I do, thank you." I say the last part trailing off. I must have been taught manners once, and yet I can't remember.

I take the umbrella dazed and my hand is shaky. He smiles at me and takes out a piece of paper. "Here's my address so when you want to return it, feel free to take your time. I don't need it anytime soon." I nod and smile back, something I hadn't done in a while. "Thanks..." I say as he begins to run of in the rain. I open the umbrella and for once don't feel the rain falling upon my shoulders. The jeans that I'm wearing are faded, the t-shirt soaked. It's strange but I don't remember when I bought this, or if it was given to me by someone. Suddenly I realized that he--that boy, was the first not to run away. He kindly offered me his umbrella... I looked at the umbrella in awe and felt a jolt of happiness strike me. "I do exist!" I yell into the sky. Perhaps there was still a chance for me...

I walked around the deserted city for a while. It has stop raining and I look at the umbrella a new memory unfolding for me, the book no longer empty--no longer blank. I feel something in my pocket. I take it out and find money inside. A crisp One hundred dollar bill and a note. It read;

Be careful--don't try to remember what which has been forgotten

This note hadn't been in my pocket yesterday. It suddenly hits me. I don't remember what I did yesterday, or what I did the day before, maybe I did have amnesia. Maybe in time I would remember what my life is like in while, maybe... I make my way to the edge of the sidewalk ready to call a cab to return the umbrella. A cab stops and the passenger window is let down. "Where to, miss?" The cab driver asks politely. I show him the paper in which the boy scribbled the address. "All right then, that'll be $5, cash please." I hand him the one hundred dollar bill and he stares at it in awe. "I'm sorry Miss; I don't exactly have change for it." I smile and say, "Its okay, you can keep the change."

It's as if I know that tomorrow new money will appear to me, or I have some sort of insurance. I don't know, something just impulse me to say that. "All right then, come on it, Miss..." I come inside the warm cab and wait until I arrive at my destination. The scenery changes from murky gray identical buildings to more landscape. Trees and giant houses stretched as far as the eye can see. Finally the cab stops abruptly. "We've arrived." The driver announces and I smile and nod. I daintily get of the cab, my hair now dry. Limp, hanging from my shoulders. The house, I notice is humungous. It must have at least three individual floors.

I ring the golden doorbell and wait patiently for an answer. A maid comes to the door and welcomes me in. I stand in the middle of a huge space, large enough to fill in at least 5 cars. The maid tells me to sit in a couch. She points at 5 leather couches stationed together. I sit quietly in a small couch filled with cushions. Soon enough a woman in her late forties greets me, giving me a warm smile. I smile back and shake her extended hand. "What brings you here?" She asks me. "A boy gave me this today; he gave me this address in case I wanted to return it..." I handed her the umbrella and the paper in which the address had been scribbled on. The women nods and takes me into a huge kitchen. "Ah yes, Joe must have given you this. This handwriting belongs to him." She silently whispers; "Nothing could match its sloppy style." I'm tempted to smile or let out a giggle but I contain myself.

Maybe this umbrella would bring me more good fortune than I imagined. "My name is Mrs. Tyler, nice to meet you."  I smile back and suddenly it occurs to me that its time that I introduce myself. The name Francoise pops into my head. "My name is-my name is Francoise, nice to meet you." The woman nods and we sit down in the table which has been prepared with delicacies. "Please do eat; these chefs make too much food." I accept her invitation and begin to eat.

 

A/N: This idea struck me as I was listening to a melody, music certainly inspires me a lot. Believe it or not, I have to be listening to something in order to write an efficient chapter. I thought that I'd make something a little different this time; hopefully you guys enjoyed reading this as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all on your support on my past story "Reigning Memories", it was truly something inspiring. Until next time!

~Sorrowful~