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Inspirational Suspense Happy

I woke up this morning without any memories of my past. I first tried to remember what movie I watched before going to sleep. I couldn’t seem to remember what I watched or when I went to sleep. Now this didn’t alarm me, but when I couldn’t seem to recall anything from the past, this sent me into a panic. I tried with all my might to remember where I was born, my parents’ names or faces, if I had any siblings, and how I ended up in New Haven. All of these questions remained a mystery, but there is still something even more surprising for me to reveal. Though I can’t remember my past, I seem to be able to see my future. I know you are probably thinking that I’m insane, but let me explain what exactly I mean by these strange statements. I have no recollection of my past at all. I do, however, remember the past in general, but not my specific past. My mind doesn’t hold any specific dates, locations, people, or even feelings from my past. I can only remember general world events that have absolutely nothing to do with me. It almost seems like the part of my mind which contained my memories of the past has been replaced by a strange entity which has given me the ability to see glimpses of my future. These glimpses are exactly like memories from the past; they’re brought up just like memories of my past were brought up. For instance, after I had a small mental breakdown this morning, I glanced out my bedroom window and saw a raven. This caused me to remember my father’s funeral, as I saw the same type of bird land in a field across from the cemetery during his funeral. The memory, if I should call it that, was extremely vivid and detailed. I could feel the weight of grief in my chest; I could clearly hear my sister crying beside me. I could even feel the cold, bitter air seemingly taunting me by its sudden gusts. Here’s the crazy thing: my dad isn’t dead yet. I called him right after this vision or memory,  and he was healthy and in good spirits— far from death. Now I’m sitting here in this apartment in New Haven (I know where I am because of a billboard outside the window encouraging small businesses to open in New Haven). Suddenly, I feel a strong emotional pull to walk around the apartment. I am pacing around slowly—. I can feel her hand in mine gently causing my arm to sway. I’m remembering my wife, Rachel. I’m reminded of her dark brown hair, beautiful smile, and her intense brown eyes. But I’m not married, nor have I ever been married, and I don’t know anyone named Rachel. My new memory shifts from her to a bright, cool, sunny day. The smell of freshly cut grass hangs in the air, and I feel a strong sense of happiness. I look behind me and remember my daughter running into my arms. I return to the present and remind myself that this hasn’t happened yet. I decide to take a walk around the apartment complex. Noticing someone setting up a garage sale sign across the street, I remember a roaring sound. I’m in what appears to be New York, and a huge number of people are marching, demanding that a war be stopped. The war, if I remember correctly, was caused (or will be caused) when the U.S. invades Canada. For what reasons, I can’t tell, but many people are outraged by it as I witness many marching in New York. The desire to do something, to stop the war envelopes me as I foretell this event. I turn the corner and continue to a huge, grotesque building. I enter and am greeted by an overworked, frustrated receptionist. Waiting for about fifteen minutes, I’m called to Mr. Bradberry’s office. I’m sitting in front of this man who looks like he hasn’t slept in the past six months and aching for retirement. We go through the whole interview questionnaire pony show, and he offers me a job with a huge salary. I’m so excited that I vigorously shake his feeble hand and accept the position as a senior financial analyst for Yorkshire Investments. Then, one day I’m sitting at my desk staring at a nonsensical spreadsheet when I look out of the window and focus my gaze on a lady walking her dog. I remember thinking how much I will desire to be that dog. It sounds silly, but in the future I’ll hate this ridiculous job so much that I will fantasize about being a dog on a leash. I make it all the way around the complex and decide to go back to my apartment. As I climb up the stairs, I think of the word neglect. Remembering that my future wife, Rachel said that I was neglecting her and our daughter. Yes, I remember our last argument now. She’s upset that I work all the time and has been for a prolonged period of time. I come home and the divorce papers are laid in a neat stack on the kitchen table. Rachel was always very organized and neat like that. She said that I have been neglecting her and our daughter, and she can’t take it anymore. The tears running down my face snap me out of this horrible foreshadowing memory. By this time, I’m ready for a nap, so I lie down on the bed and look up at the ceiling. Certainly looking up will remind me of happy future memories. This is an incorrect assumption. Studying the sharp, geometric outline of this bland ceiling, I see myself alone and empty. Now I’m old, maybe in my sixties, and I am sitting at a melancholy desk. Within my hands are pieces of paper which contain all of my bank account information. I think I’m trying to find some validation or justification for the decisions I’ve made in my life through the amount of money I’ve made. I put down the worthless papers, and I feel immense sorrow as I’ve never felt before. I’ve come to realize in my sixties that life is not about numbers— stats on how you supposedly did. You can not measure a person’s life by how much money they made. Yes, I’ve realized that there’s no point of working so long and hard and earning all this money if you have no one that you love to share it with. I’ll be too worried about earning green paper and moving up in the company that my heart will become debased, and I’ll end up neglecting the ones I love. Love. That is exactly why I am so sad in this foreshadow memory. At the end of my life, I’m only concerned about love and why I have lost my love for everyone. Did I ever really love anyone at all? If I did, did I show them that I love them? Have I even loved myself? My conscience convicts me that I have wasted the most important thing in life, and for what? For money, pride, fame, glory, exterior image, or the pursuit of perfection. It seems as though I will believe that these things are important, but without love I have absolutely nothing— an empty vessel, missed opportunity, misplaced heart. I sink into my desk chair and feel the regret invade every cell in my body. The last future memory I have is longing for death in an empty house, sitting behind a grotesque desk with a hollow heart and a life full of misplaced priorities. 

No! My mind dashes away from this future nightmare, and I feel the strongest, deepest motivation in my life. The memories of my past return to me at once; I thought they were gone forever. I realize that the past is really the present— how I made it to this point and who I am now. The future is where I will travel to next and who I’ll become. However, I will not become the poor old man I saw sitting in that desk. No, that will not happen; it can’t happen. My name is Brandon Marling; I’m in New Haven attending college. Speaking of college, I need to change my major immediately. Finance is what I’ve been studying thus far, but it’s really not my passion at all. I hate numbers, spreadsheets, and boring jobs. Writing is what I’m really passionate about, so I’m going to change my major to English. That was my favorite subject in school, and I remember how great it felt when I showed my teacher an outline of my paper and she said that she wasn’t worried about me because I’m a strong writer. I also remember my parents, my sisters, and everything else from my past up to this very point. I don’t know why I was able to see my future, but I am so grateful that I was able to and have the ability to avoid mistakes that so many people make. Whenever I meet Rachel, I’m going to make sure that I love her from that point on, and I won’t neglect her or our kids. The future can hold many bad things, but I choose to focus on the good things. That is why I am writing to you: remember to ask yourselves if you are making decisions about your future out of fear or out of love. 

October 06, 2020 01:09

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00:27 Oct 16, 2020

Your story was rather hard to read without paragraphs. It reads more as a narriative than a story. It seemed more like a morality tale than an entertainment. It seemed like I was reading a transcript of a sermon.

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