Mage, Misremembered

Why am I walking barefoot upon this road with no one near? Rain falls all around me, but I can't remember it ever touching my skin like it does now, delicate as fingertips stroking rose petals. It strikes the dirt and bends the earth around it. This reminds me of white hot metal on an anvil, the hammer falling. A hiss. The hammer falling again. The metal does not cool. Some part of my mind tells me this liquid fire memory is not anything being forged at all, but rather...

Why do I stand alone beneath the cherry tree full of blooms? Dying petals dance around me. Carried on a breeze they kiss my skin. Their fragrance fills the air, sweet and alive. They drift so slow to the ground. Everything is a haze of pink and white. Everything spins as they fall. I fall with them.

Why do I open my eyes to darkness? If there is nothing left to see in the world but faded dreams curling like leaves in the sun I would rather be blind. I reach for the memory of the anvil's light. It is not there. I grasp a knife instead. The steel bites into my palm. It slices deep. Red floods through my darkness, covering everything with movements like birds wings flapping. Nervous twitches. Only it is not a twitch. A name huddles on the horizon of my thoughts.

What will happen to me if my memory withers once more? Will I find myself alone  on a path of falling petals? Or if that darkness takes me again perhaps I will wake up on a distant shore, words carved in the sand around me and names growing on my lips.  

Wordage: knife, fall
Genre: Fantasy
Wordcount: 289

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