Memories

I am an orphan. The only memories I have of family is of my brother. I haven’t seen him since we were children. He loved music and stories and I’ve spent my life chasing those things so that I can feel closer to him. In three years he’ll be eighteen and I’ll be able to apply to the system to find out if he’d like to meet.

I’m in school, studying folklore in Dublin. I’m turning 22 on June 22nd. This year, that just happens to coincide with the Summer Solstice. It seemed like a recipe for a fantastic night and a great party. What did I know?

The night of my birthday, I was milling around a bonfire that was taller than me. The flames reached up into the sky and the sound of them was a soul deep comfort. I breathed in the smell of woodsmoke and knew I would be smelling that for days as it clung to the denim of my jacket. I didn’t know anyone here and that was fine. I enjoyed listening to the others tell tales, ancient and modern.

I heard a girl called Meggie tell a story about a house cleaning pookah that left as soon as it was thanked and I heard another voice tell a story about being stuck in a queue for four hours.

At some point of the night, I remember wanting to get away from the fire and the people for a moment. I wanted to get out into the night a bit. I wanted to wonder about my brother and wonder where he was and how he was feeling, what he was doing. The moon was crescent, so it was wonderfully dark. I stepped carefully and slowly. At one point or another, I lost track of the sounds of the gathering. No more roar of flames and no more voices. I wandered vaguely back the direction I had come and wondered how long I had been gone.

I was relatively sure that I’d gone back the right way, but when I arrived to where I’d left the bonfire, I found a circle of stones. In the center was a pool of water. At the edge a figure was crouched. I looked behind me into the forest I’d just wandered out of and wondered at the likelihood that I’d stepped into a fairy ring in the dark.

I looked back at the figure. They were clad in a robe that looked like starlight, it glowed silver in the sliver of the moon. The shape was off. This was not a human crouched. I decided that the likelihood of my having stepped into a fairy ring was quite high indeed.
The moment took on a sense of dream, of the surreal. The figure reached into the pool and pulled out a smooth, black stone. They then reached up with their other hand to pull back their hood.

She stood and turned to face me. Her face was constructed of woven sticks and vines. Her hair was strings of white flowers.

She spoke and her voice was a clear as a bell, nothing like I would have expected. She said, “The pool told me that you were coming and that when you did I was to give you this.”

She held out the stone.

“What is it?”

“A gift.”

“What do I owe if I take it?”

“Nothing, now that you have asked.”

“What would I have owed, if I hadn’t asked?”

“Only a memory.”

Only a memory she says. The worth of that depends on the memory though, doesn’t it? One memory gone could change me completely or not at all. I’m glad that I asked. If I forgot what little memories I had of my brother, would I be the same?

I approached her slowly. Her eyes were made of stone with chips of amethyst for irises.

“Happy Solstice,” I said.

She inclined her head and I took the stone from her outstretched hand.

“Happy Birthday,” she said.

She turned away and melted into one of the standing stones of the circle. I looked into the pool and saw nothing. Just darkness. I looked back into the forest and saw a path illuminated. I crouched and set the stone down and the path disappeared. When I picked up the stone again the pathway grew out from me and into my future.

I followed it back to the fairy ring and then back out to my world, to the fire and the people. I saw a girl outlined in a glow across the way and I went to speak to her. She ended up being the key to my research for my first book on folklore.

I don’t know why I was given this gift. Perhaps I never will.

It doesn’t always illuminate my path forward but when it does, I listen. I hope that one day it will help me find what I’ve lost, only I don’t remember what it is that I’m looking for.

Sometimes, very late at night, I lay awake and wonder if this stone hasn’t taken anything back. If I did lose a memory or two, how would I ever know?

Prompt ▼

You have to write about a double celebration, happening on the 22nd of a certain month. Bold the two celebrations, and the date for tomorrow's judge to find.


Your genre is: Family.

Author's Note ▼

I had a great week with these prompts. I woke up today terribly sick so hopefully anything I wrote even makes any sense! Thanks to anyone who took the time to read. :)