A House of Memories

October 24, 2017
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Entry 1 : September 21, 1971

I am currently stuck in a rather large dilemma, with little to no hope for rescue, so I etch this into some paper that I could grab. Let’s start from the beginning. If anybody ever sees me, I am Chinese, 15 years old, short black hair, and have dark brown eyes.
Every day, I slowly stumble through the front door with my drowsy, lifeless legs. At 7:30 sharp I stand back and watch a car back up out of the garage. I breath in the fresh. brisk air, clean from the night rainfall. I stand in waiting for my parents to drive me to school. However, there’s something different about today; there is a woozy feeling drowning out my thoughts. A memory, one that I thought I could never remember, until now.
I started to zone out, a fly in front of me slowed to the point where I could see its wings flap. Then everything went black, and I remembered. More than what felt like an eternity ago, long before my consciousness was fully developed, before I could’ve properly remember my family. I had more than just a special summer day. I climbed into the car, when I still needed a car seat, it was rather difficult. It was a hot day, one where a body would sweat, just under the harsh rays of the sun. You wouldn’t need movement to sweat bullets. The pavement burned with excitement, and sent off waves of heat that distorted anyone’s vision, and everything was silent. We were headed to lunch, the gravel slowly creaked as we drove out of the driveway. I was ever so excited; delicious food is something to always be excited for. So much time went by while we were there, my childish self actually fell asleep. But that’s when it happened, on the drive home, when I had a nice avocado smoothie in my tiny, fragile, hands. It was a normal, happy, day, until we started to drive home on the highway. Somebody lost control, hitting the back right wheel of our Acura MDX; the hit sent us spinning, out of control, on an active and alive highway. My Mother, has her priorities set in life, unlike myself. A normal mom, silky brown hair, gentle touch, with an average Chinese American face. It doesn’t occur to the average person walking down the street what she is capable of. In the event of danger, much like this time slowing car crash, her first question is about me. Only me, nothing else in the world would distract her from reach this goal. With intense haste after spinning, the car door on my right flung open faster than sound.
“Are you alright?” she stammered. I was too young, too immature to realize the danger I had been exposed to, so I took it in a fun way.I yipped and shouted, because I just experienced a free roller-coast ride. My drink however, did not share the same fate. It  had spilled everywhere, on every surface in the vehicle while we were turning. I was covered in a green icky goo that seeped into every pore on my infant like arms. My eyes couldn’t open just yet, but when they did I looked into my Mother’s eyes with my smoothie covered face, then everything went black.
I suddenly started to fade back to the real world. The brisk air had reappeared to flood my nostrils once more. I was disoriented at first. And then I saw a shelf, one constructed by my dad and I in the back of our garage. And it happened again, without any pause or time to breath, my vision went dark and I had another intensified vivid flashback.
Every time we move or change houses, in our new garage my dad and I construct wooden shelves. He would always yell from across the house,
“Matthew!” and I scream back, “What!” every time.
He always needed me to do something, whether that be to hold something for him to cut, or angle the recently sanded wooden beams correctly. He puts a serious amount of trust in me, and messing up would have caused some sort of deathly injury.
These memories are too vivid, like I am there, time doesn’t speed up as I relive the past.
I  remember everything, from dry taste of the sawdust, the powder everywhere from the saw; the ear ringing bang of a nail gun, along with the shake of the wooden board; and the noise of the air pressurizer, loudly booming while powering up. When several hours passed not fast forward flash back hours, long mentally draining hours. We finally finished the project. I was completely drenched in sweat, we worked out in such intense amounts of heat. Immediately my vision went black, with all noise disappearing.
I was back again, standing in the same spot waiting for school. No time had passed at all but it felt like days have went by. In my confusion I shouted for help.
“Mom! Something’s happening to me!” I shouted, hopefully she would come out of the car. And then she did, she slowly opened the door and came out with a smile. She wore a dress, black from head to toe with few designs; and my vision started to shake and go dark.
“No!” I weeped, with an urgent distressing tone in my voice.
“What is it honey?” My mother pondered.
I slowly opened my eyes, what flashback did the dress bring me to? I did not remember this dress at all. As I glared across the room, I was sitting at a table with family, present at my Uncle’s wedding reception. There is all types of cuisine on a curved table that lines the entire wall. I ignored all of it, good as it looks, I had more to worry about.
By now I had become aware that I am shooting into flashbacks and tried  to see if I can change anything. I am trapped, reliving something where I cannot move, I just watched until it is over.
“Matthew!” My Uncle tried for a picture.
So much has happened in my little brain, too much to comprehend; questions like “How are these so vivid? Why is this being forced onto me? Why these specific moments?”
I soon began to realize that I couldn’t do anything while in the vision.  So I lived through it, many pictures and an entire afternoon of the best pleasures life could buy. Then finally the vision starts to darken.
I soon as I woke up, mentally exhausted because of what’s been happening to me. I realized what kind of issue this is, and tried my best to not trigger another flashback. I stood completely still, and held my breath. And my eyes rolled into the back of my head as I lost consciousness entering another dream world.
So this is my life now, forever trapped in an endless stream of vivid flashbacks. I don’t know if the single word I can etch into this notebook every time a flashback ends will help me get out, but if somebody, anybody can see this. I am stuck here at this address. Please find a way to rescue me, my life is in your hands.

1007 Mountain Drive ... 






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