Excerpt: The Door

I remember.

I remember everything, I remember when I first opened my eyes and gazed out across this fiery planet, I remember watching the oceans pool and the mountains form, and becoming vaguely aware of my sisters all around me, sharing the view from where we sat, neatly out in space.

I remember when I began walking, when I landed, naked and fragile, upon the grasses of Gaia. It was so much louder than space, so much bigger up close. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Most fondly, I remember first meeting Luther. What a handsome man he was, lean and tall, a hard working man, a loving man. He was very gentle, I liked him very much, right from the start, I liked him.

There is a dripping noise. It comes and goes with what I suppose are the rains. There is a puddle in the corner that grows and tries to stay, but try as it might the earth is thirsty, she swallows it up.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I forget what I was thinking about. Thoughts fall away faster than I can catch a glimpse of them, and all at once they are gone. I have been here so long that sometimes I begin to forget the simplest things. Other times, my head is perfectly clear, and I can distinctly recall the feeling of sunshine on my skin, the texture of grass, a warm touch…

I fear one day I will no longer remember, one day all my memories will simply wash away, be eaten up by the damp earth, and I will have no choice but to think about the here and now. No choice but to look around me and remember only where I am, not where I have been.

I count the dripping and the splashes in the puddle until my heartbeat matches their pace.

Drip.

Bubump.

Drip.
Bubump.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I take a deep breath. I close my eyes. And I remember.