Forget

By Zarayna/Nick:


Little People

     There was a single muffled cry, and that was all. The boy smiled as his victim slumped to the ground, eyes staring with horror at the face that had been his doom. The alleyway was deserted, and it had been more luck than anything else that had allowed the young boy to lure his prey into the so obviously dangerous place. Luck, and the innocence of a child. Pushing back a sandy lock the child gave a little laugh as he began turning out the corpse’s pockets. People were begin to carry less with them these days and he had to be careful, but this man seemed to be a bit behind the times, and the boy easily extracted every cent from his wallet, over a hundred dollars. Good. He detached the man’s wristwatch, and then as an afterthought slipped his glasses off. Then, humming an obscure tune, the boy pulled out his knife, wiped it on the corpse’s shirt, hid it inside his shirt, and jogged off.

    “I didn’t forget,” the boy said, tossing down the package carelessly. His father practically dove for it, snatching it up before it could hit the ground.

    “You forgot nothing except care!” he snarled, his thin face lit with a sudden rage. The boy, wise beyond his years in combats of wills simply smirked.

    “The cops aren’t on my tail,” was his only reply. As he turned away, he carelessly tossed a knife on the table as well.

     “Oh, and you can have this back as well,” he said, motioning to the still blood-speckled blade.  Then he was gone from the room, humming merrily. The father ignored his departure, tearing open the package. There, wrapped inside common paper was the money from the man’ wallet, and a wristwatch. Good, the boy had not forgotten the essentials from his victim’s body. He took a quick glance at his son’s figure as he sauntered out the door. Just another small boy, deemed far too small to possibly commit murder. Any people who had seen him there would quickly forget him. Forgotten, all would be forgotten by tomorrow.

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By Alex Humva:

I wish I could forget. Forget the pain that was sitting somewhere deep inside of me, forget the pain that was crawling through my system, burning ever crevice it could fine. I wish I forget the betrayal and the loss, hole it away in my mind and never think of it again. I wish that life could go on, that I could carry on, and that I didn't have wake up every morning feeling that deep slash to my faith and trust. Maybe then I could be happy again. Maybe then, I could trust again.

The memory will never go away, though. She was perfect for me, and I was perfect for her. True love at first sight, I suppose. We did so much together, were the greatest of friends for years and then a bit more than friends after that. It was a match made in heaven; we didn't seem like it at first, but for all of our differences we still were completely enamored with each other. Barely a day went by without us talking to each other. Our parents always thought it was just that we were good friends. They couldn't know the truth. They never could.

Then that day came. She turned eighteen at the end of winter, and with that achievement, she decided to tell her family of the secrets she had kept from them. Amongst them was me and our relationship. They took it... less than well. They all but disavowed her, threatening to kick her from their home. She knew that of course, she had plans for that, but it still hurt her. Not that it matters. We had talked about that. I knew she was going try. I didn't want to see her hurt, but, to my shame, I worried for myself as well. What her parents could do to me.

They called mine, of course. Told them about me and her. My parents took it well enough; they were a bit shocked, but they weren't like her parents. They understood, accepted me. Comforted me. And I needed that dearly. It wasn't long until the news 'happened' to be leaked to the neighborhood and, shortly, the town. Not everyone hated me of course, most saw no difference, but some would avoid me at all costs. Others would glare at me hatefully. Mothers would shoo their children away from me.

At school I found myself the source of more bigotry than I had ever seen before. The students were bad enough; the teachers were truly the terror though. Some were accepting of course, not everyone in this day and age is a bigot, but others... my grades began to fail in some of my classes. My parents understood what was going on, my father looking over what he understood and realizing that it wasn't the stress that was doing it. He went to the school board, tried to protest on my behalf. A warning was issued, but it was half-hearted. My grades were still below what I had use to be getting.

So my life continued, and I now fully understand. It doesn't matter what the world says. People will always be hateful. People will never be able to accept those who are different from themselves. It's a never ending cycle of hate, and that hatred is what makes the world turn. I look at those who try and I laugh to myself in the dark at their naive crusade. I didn't ask for them to change their beliefs. I asked for their acceptance, their understanding. And I received nothing but hate.

So I will give nothing but hate in return.

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By Rene/Emperor Whenua:

“You got everything?” Maude asked Earl. It was the big day. They had been planning this trip for months. The family had stopped visiting and bothering them with trinkets, cakes, feigned love and curious questions of false care about their parents health. Earl and Maude were free to do their own thing at last.

“Yeah, yeah,” came Earl’s murmured reply, rasped after the brandy for the road had burned his throat to anew alertness, but not as alert as he got when he saw Maude’s ridiculous retro triangle glasses she dug out from the dresser drawer untouched from the 1960’s.

Despite the fact that their large family was of age and had their own lives, everyone seemed to want to come back to big the old people in the quest for their fortune. Millions of dollars lingered in safe deposit boxes and accounts while the old folks lived in a simple and modest house in the suburbs. Their wealth stemmed from a life of work that continued even to the present. Mutual vacationing days were rare for them and they could rarely get anything but a squeezed weekend for themselves, and even then the relatives would flock after them like a pack of wolves bearing down on a couple wounded deer. So without hesitation, Earl and Maude planned their big getaway. They had packed in a hurry and got in their car in the wee hours of twilight to evade prying neighbor’s eyes that were surely in the pockets of their relatives. They zoomed away in their old Volvo before twilight and pumped their fists with euphoria as they fled to keep away from the kids and spend away their inheritance.

They parked their car in the short-term parking garage at the airport because of how few clicks they gave at the huge price and grabbed their overstuffed and oversized suitcases. “Earl, you parked in three spaces!” Maude exclaimed.

“What are they gonna do, charge us for them?” Earl slurred back. They laughed.

They bumped their fists at the ticket counter and checked in their luggage, rummaged through their satchels for their IDs at the security counter, found their way to the terminal and boarded their plane at the last minute -- slowly, too, just to grate everybody else. They sat in opposite sides of the first class cabin, having bought up all the seats up for themselves.

They were relaxing on a sunny beach later that day when Maude shook Earl awake. He nearly screamed at the different pair of stupid sunglasses that seemed to glare at him like some hipster alien from Venus. “Earl!”

“Whaaaaat?” he almost hollered at her. “What?”

“Did we plan anything for Winkle?” Maude asked, her tone urgent.

“What? Oh, wait... the dog? No... Oh no! Quick, Maude, where’s your phone. We have to call the kids and tell them to feed and care for her!”

“You’re right!” Maude exclaimed. They bolted for the hotel room like greased lightning. “HANG ONNN, WINKLE!” she screamed. “SORRY FOR FORGETTING YOU, BUT WE’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU!”

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By Nicholas Joseph:

The scholar peered through the telescope on the balcony, his attention so narrowly focused on the stars above him. He was focused, his mind sharp on the task. As he scribbled on the tablet, he couldn’t wait to show the new constellations to the other scholars in the next tower, eager to add to his great library. 

While he submerged himself in the stars above, he assumed that the library remained still and waiting, patient where he was excited, content where the scholar was curious. He didn’t realize that there were others in the room, others just as curious as him. The blue glow that had come from the ceiling was not lights; instead it was the eyes, drawn to an object on one of the tables. A crystal, that emitted an energy they craved like a Matoran craved the flavors of a madu fruit. They didn’t know why they wanted it- through the many generations of their species, the reason for craving this object had been forgotten- but they knew everything would be sated with the possession of that crystal. And so they crawled down the walls, relishing in the joy of an unguarded crystal...

***

Lhikan brushed aside the Vahki as they crowded the room. They were a nuisance at the worst of times, and they should not have been allowed to be in charge of investigations. Chasers that were best kept on a leash, he decided. 

The room was trashed, as though the the scholar himself had gone on a rampage through the shelves in search of one line amongst a myraid of tablets. But as he looked closer at the wonton destruction, he began to see tracks, not quite the size of a Matoran’s fingertips. And with the way they reached higher on the shelves, he didn’t seem to think a Matoran could climb so high either...

The Vahki followed his gaze upward, and snapped to attention as they too realized that the “lights” were eyes, eyes of numerous little beetles. In response to the Vahki, they scrambled, crawling this way and that, as the mechanical enforcers went soaring out the tower’s windows in chase of them. 

Noone ever looks up, the Toa of Fire muttered to himself. Now that the area was quiet, he finally had quiet, to figure out what had gone awry here. 

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