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Alfred pushed through the throngs of people, hearing the teachers yelling and the students falling to the ground under his wake, but nothing stopped him. He could almost hear the rumors that were going to start because of this, rumors that he knew his friends were going to be a part of in trying to get rid of them, but nothing stopped Alfred as he finally pushed past the last kid and exited the school.

Matthew's words rang through his head, echoing through his skull, drilling their way throughout his brain. 'I'm sure that you'll remember his name soon.' It was obviously mean to be comforting, so soothing his soul until he either remembered or they went back, but instead the words just rang out through his head and didn't help at all. Alfred could feel the anger that was in his chest thrust itself towards Matthew in an effort to blame someone besides himself. Alfred pushed the feelings down and away, determined not to blame Matthew when he was just trying to be helpful. It wasn't Matthew's fault that Alfred couldn't remember.

The streets of his small town were barren, everyone either in school or at work. Alfred went into the one and only gas station that they had, buying a soda and some candy for later. The clerk behind the counter, Alfred couldn't remember his name either, gave him a questioning, probably wondering why he wasn't in school right now. But Alfred didn't offer up and explanation and the clerk didn't ask, so they were left with awkward silence and no new answers while the receipt was being printed.

Finally it was over and done, and Alfred didn't hesitate to pop open his soda and gulp half of it down. He quickly decided to take the back route home after he looked back at the small gas station and saw the clerk on the phone looking out the window in the direction where he just was. The school already knew that he left, the last thing that he needed was the police to be looking out for him while he was out. His mom worried enough without having to think that her idol of a son was ditching school.

Taking the back route home made his journey about ten minutes longer than it would normally take him if he took the roads. Instead he traveled through the woods and took the paths that the hunters use when they go looking for game. One path that he was familiar with took him straight to his back yard, and no one saw him on the way there.

Alfred didn't hesitate before he went in, he hardly did anything other than take a few steps inside. Yet with a sudden fury he threw his backpack on the ground, got his traveling bag and filled that with food and another set of clothes. Was he running away? The thought suddenly hit his mind, but the answer to Alfred was clear. No, he wasn't running away, he just didn't know what he was going to do or where he was going with his bag full of food and extra set of clothes.

The woods outside swallowed him whole, the only trace of him being there were the footsteps that the mud captured the soles of his shoes. They sucked at his shoes, clinging to the sides and building up. At least it wasn't raining, for the rain must have happened sometime last night for all this mud to be here. Alfred himself didn't think about when the rain had fallen or where he was going instead he just let himself walk along in hopes that he would find something.

A familiar path met his eyes, and he was suddenly at his carousel. Yes, Alfred always thought of it as his. He was the one that found it, he was the one who had the idea to fix up the centaurs, and he was the one who seemed to care the most. Alfred looked around, almost undecided about what he should do now that he was here. Eventually he moved around, just laying his bag randomly on the ground to pick up later.

Looking at the carousel now, with the light of day and the warmth of the sun, Alfred noticed so much more than he ever had before about it. Where there centaurs decorating, there were other monsters and ghouls. There was something that used to be painted a green, but now it just looked like a hue. From what Alfred could tell it almost looked like it was a swamp monster or something. There was a harpy, a giant spider (which Alfred avoided like crazy), sirens, gryphons, harpies, and one last beast that was so deformed that Alfred couldn't tell what it used to be when the carousel was at it's prime. He didn't like these other creators though, for while the centaurs gave off this feeling that they were loved and that they had lived a long life, the other creators were sinister, leaving the air with a feeling or cold and unwelcoming.

Alfred eventually circled back to his centaur. He still looked the same, with amazing detail even though the pain was faded and chipped. The hands were still beautifully sculpted, the red paint was still colorful, and everything looked perfect. There was still the marks where Alfred had buffed away some of the scratches before they forgot, but they were hardly noticeable. Alfred ran his hand against the smooth wood, ignoring the cracks under his palm.

"How come I can't remember you?" Alfred whispered. He grasped the red and white candy cane striped pole that held his centaur in place, and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

Alfred moved his hands over the places that he had never seen before from his angel on the front, brushing away dirt, dust, and leaves. Ever so slowly he could finally see everything that he had missed in the dark, and let his head fall on his centaurs shoulder, wrapping his arms around the torso.

"It's not fair..." Alfred whispered into the crook of the neck. If he didn't know better, Alfred would have sworn he felt movement beneath him. But he let his mind think it was the wind, and simply tightened his arms around the middle.

"I just want to remember..." he muttered into the crook of the neck of his centaur. And for a moment he could have sworn there was a heartbeat coming from his centaur.

Hours later, after he hadn't come home and his mother had called the police, his friends found him still in the same place, fast asleep.

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