A/N: I'm writing this to give away a hint of a new story thing that I might be writing soon; it's an AU plot bunny that's been with me for a couple months and I had to get at least this out.

Also, I'm updating to inform everybody that I won't be updating for a couple weeks. Just so everyone knows that I'm not dead in the next week or two.

Title: Memories, Visions, Dreams
Author: Red Hawk K'sani
Word Count: 318
Warnings: Angst, AU-ness
Challenge: Written to spark my interest in one of my AU plot bunnies
Characters/Pairings: Katara

I hate the memories.

The memories aren't mine—they are someone else's, a thousand different peoples' memories, all shoved into one single mind—me. Why do I remember all these different people? Incredible people of all different Nations and time periods and personalities, each worthy of the world's awe and respect. They don't have anything to do with me, so…why do I remember them?

And then it's not just the memories, but the visions as well—I don't see the environment around me, I see a whole different scene, a whole different world that yet is still mine. Visions that aren't from either the past or the future—that much I know. They're visions of the present. To be correct, visions of a present that should be but is not.

All that I've learned from the visions is that I'm not supposed to exist. But I exist anyway, and it scares me.

The worst part is neither the memories nor even the visions. It's the dreams that scare me the most.

If my memories are of the past and my visions of the present, then my dreams are most certainly of the future. Or, yet again to correct myself, thousands of futures—a single path split in a million different ways so that it's like some ancient tree as old as the world with more branches than all the years it has endured.

The dreams are dreams of terrible consequences: of apocalypses, of global war, of plague spreading across the entire world, of hurricanes raging and tearing apart the skies and earthquakes tearing apart the earth. After the dreams I wake sometime during the night, and I cry and cry until I have no more tears because I know that there is no hope for this world.

I know I'm the hope for this world from the memories and the visions—and from the dreams I remember that my existence is meaningless.