8
-unknown-
"And the Heartless sent to that town?"
"I have lost track of it."
"Lost it? Or was it destroyed?"
"Destroyed, by some defender of that world no doubt. I think I'll..."
"Ah!" I blurted out, awakening from my sleep in a fright. Such wierd dreams. No pictures, merely words. It was odd. While I didn't quite know that much about myself, I did know I had amnesia, and I did know dreams usually consist of pictures.
Well to say I didn't know much about myself was a lie. I knew that I possessed a multitude of memories, I just couldn't recall all of them off the bat. The memories weren't complete, really, I could only see them in a set speed and detail. My memories of the time since I had been created, those I could play back in my mind as fast or slow as I needed. I could skip parts, go straight to others, slow it down, or speed the actions in my mind up. These other memories, they didn't exactly flow so easily. I watched them all in set portions, at set speeds. And there were so many holes, I didn't know what was the chronological order.
"Oh, you're awake already," said a gentle voice to my left. I glanced over so I wouldn't seem rude speaking out of my blind side.
"Yes, bad dreams."
"Well if you'd like some breakfast I got a few things set out, OK?" she said.
"Yes, thank you," I said. Ms. Lalia had taken me in that first night. I was looking for shelter, and she had offered her home. She had even provided me with a robe and some red bandages to cover my head, most especially my eye with. I had some scarring along that side of my body, so I figured the full robe was useful in that way too. Ms. Lalia's gesture was especially kind, as she had a newborn child, only a few months old, I can only imagine the difficulty that motherhood was on one's nerves, especially the first time. While I didn't want to burden her for too long, this appeared to be a rough side of town, and at the same time I felt like I should protect this small family.
I went into the kitchen and sat down, grabbing a few eggs, and a glass of juice. "Any progress on your memory?" Ms. Lalia asked me. "I know you're getting closer."
"Some progress," I answered, "but not much. Everything is still confusing."
"Well, have you figured out your name? I can't keep calling you 'You'," she kept on.
"No, but I wouldn't be much concerned about it, a name is a name," I said rather off-the-cuff, though I'd had the same response the past few times she had asked me. I looked over to the high-chair her child Jora was sitting in. He looked back at me inquisitively, almost as if trying to figure out what I was. I didn't exactly know how I might have looked to him. To a fully conscious toddler, I probably would've been a monster, but an infant doesn't have such limitations.
Ms. Lalia came over and picked him up, "What do you think Jora? Does our guest have a good name somewhere inside?" She brought him over to where I was sitting.
I finished up my meal, "Well thank you for the food Ms. Lalia, you are always too kind."
She just smiled at me and shook her head in that false aggravated tone, "Just call me Lalia, I keep telling you that...you"
Jora reached his little hand up and pointed at me, I don't actually think he knew, but that was the gesture he was imitating, "Fafu...dissz," and he finished off with that little infant-raspberry that is so common.
I looked back in his innocent little eyes, "DiZ..." I smiled a bit and looked back at Ms. Lalia, "It's as good a name as any."