Creative Writing: Foggy Memory

later, she told investigators that she awoke when she heard a sound of two boards banging together. She jumped out of bed to investigate but all she saw was a flash of light down the hall.

One day her curious mind got the best of her. She opened the box, and all the dark shadows of hunger, disease, war, greed, anger, jealousy, toil, and all the other hardships man would now have to face flooded out into the world.

Complete silence. Terror seized control, and she ran at breakneck speed until reaching the safety of the open air. Adrenaline pumping through her blood, she stood beside the car gulping in short, shaky breaths.

Her voice was like a whisper as the jail’s bars slowy closed upon her face. her vision was still dizzy, and she had not eat anything for hours. turning her head back, she tried to walk. clumsy steps were the best she could do, occasionally almost stumbling to reach the bed, or at least what seemed like a bed to her.

She pounded on the wall and screamed at the top of her lungs, but eventually after her anger was unleashed she felt that it was futile and started to bite her tongue while tearing up.

The scream for help strewn her nerves everywhere, and her hands now shook with fear. As she looked ahead to the large bay window again, she saw something she hoped to never see again.

A trickle of fear had her lying motionless with her eyes closed, straining to hear the slightest noise. A deep sigh of regret and the pressure of a body by her side made her acutely aware that she wasn’t alone.

Shocked, Jocelyn could feel her head turning. The pain was reaching for her. She couldn’t bear it and with that, she hit the ground on the hard wooden floor of the hallway, and all she could remember was the crashing thud against the floor.

I looked around. "Yeah, maybe." She threw out her cigarette and nodded to me before walking back into her room. I stood outside, just watching room five. *What the hell could be in there?* I leaned against the door, put my ear to it and I listened. It was silent for a short while, but I heard a muffled knock come from inside. I continued to listen. Another knock. Then another knock. And then, complete silence. I kept my ear at the door, just listening, waiting. Another knock, but this time, it was against the door. I jumped back, shocked by what had just happened. I knew there was somebody or something in there and the fact that I didn't know who or what it was, had me completely horrified. I just wanted to get far away from that motel.

Jonas looked at her as he tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. So many tears were shed today and so many more to come.

Perhaps it’s an abnormality in the disease, a sort of selective memory she has retained where she cannot remember my birthday but she can recall the melody to her favorite folk song. Or perhaps it’s a determination deep inside that refuses to part with

When the memories resurfaced they are also accompanying with some amnesic moments that couldn’t be recalled. She would even mistake her boyfriend to be the abuser during a flashback (Survivor Blog, 2009). The slightest suggestions from the people around her then could also cause her to believe in them and to fill in the gaps of her memories (Rice University, 2016).

I sat up in bed gasping. I had remembered something. The night of Lizzy's death, when I had been knocked out, I had heard his voice. The words were muffled but I knew who the voice belonged to. The back of my head throbbed.

Inside the small house it was pitch black and completely silent. So dark, in fact, that one could not see their own hand in front of their face. The deeper into the house, the darker it became. Now into the family room and up the stairs.A distinct sound of scratching emanated from the door at the end of the hall. Inside, the room seemed to belong to a young girl, but only because the little girl nestled in bed deemed it so.

She had fallen down. Oh, she had fallen down so hard, scraping her knees and cheeks and elbows, bruising her shins and skinning her palms. She should have listened, she should have known how to get up.