Frozen Memories

    A fleeting memory of a small girl frolicking in blissful happiness. The thought of it being her birthday excited her as she began to whirl around, the tips of her small fingers dancing along with the tall blades of faded grass.      She erupted in giggles, feeling the tingling sensation beneath her fingertips with every tap she made against the dead grass that rested its color to give way to winter.     It wasn’t until she opened her eyes again that she saw the beauty that she created. In a field once full of yellowed crunchy lawn she was suddenly surrounded by beautiful greenery full of color and plant life. The sight only excited her even more, a bright smile adorning her whimsical young features.      Butterflies bustled gracefully from the long verdant blades of grass and sunflowers, all-engulfing the small oasis that she created in astonishing perfection. It all created a sweet and fresh scent that had even called beautiful butterflies to life.     “Mommy! Look! The butterflies are awake!” the sound of childish excitement spoken through a language that was only known to those of her kind, erupted through the air. The little girl grinned from ear to ear at her mother, who chuckled with joy at the small things that her daughter took delight in. She took the girl into her arms, whirling her around, unsettling the loose dandelions that her child created with the simple touch of her fingers.     The capering came to a subtle cease when the little girl and her mother saw the handsome young man walking through the field in approach from a long day’s work. The child’s mother rushed to him in love, kissing his lips before he picked up their little girl relaying the same affection.      They made their way to the small slightly haggard wood house. A dwelling that while not impressive in the eyes of the most mediocre middle-class family, let alone anyone else, still spoke of a comfortable home.     As they came across the field of greenery, the little girl’s father stopped, knowing that she was the culprit behind such beauty. He looked at the wondrous variety of flowers, grass, and even bug life before turning to the girl’s mother. He sighed and with a wave of his hand, it all disappeared, returning into the deadened yellowed grass of before. He knew that this would sadden his daughter so he looked at her and smiled, putting her on the ground.      “Irisiwo liyu newoti, Wīli.” You are special, Wil, he said to his daughter. “liyu chilotawochi.” With special abilities, he added.     Of course, the little girl understood that she was special, her parents would make it a point to tell her this frequently.     “Ānitemi.” To which her parents would smile as she assured them that they were special too. However, this time, her father’s smile faded as he took his daughter’s shoulders gently.      “Yes, Wil, we are; but you are rare....my little rare flower.” The little girl looked at her mother who simply nodded in agreement. “There is only one other in this world like you. And I pray one day you find one another.” He said to his daughter. She was confused, as any six-year-old would be, but she nodded nonetheless before he continued. “Until then, however, we have to be careful where we reveal our abilities. No matter how far away we are from others.”      "Āwo, ābayē.” The little girl smiled, knowing that whatever he meant, above all, her father’s words were spoken out of concern and love for her.     “Now what’s say we go inside and create our own little woodland picnic paradise!” When the little girl excitedly nodded, he picked her up again as they raced to the house to celebrate her sixth birthday…..                                               **************************************     That day is my favorite memory, even in the realization that an insurmountable number of years has passed; and that girl and her family…are no more.      I practically relive that memory over and over, as I know that I have no other hope of creating a better one. However, I begin to notice that even that recollection is slowly starting to deteriorate, my mind gradually losing a full gap of that day. I try so hard to remember what happened past that moment but to no avail.     I find myself afraid to even relive the day from fear of losing another piece of it. I lie here, realizing that it becomes more distant and is gradually fading into a cold fog of lost representations.      In my mind, all joyous times in my life are now greyed into a past that no longer exists for me. Pain and misfortune are the only things prevailing at this point in my life.     “Wake up, inmate!”     The lukewarm water that is suddenly thrown on me to rouse me only dulls the prostrating pain from the Amthirion steel chains that serve as my indefinite sedation. It seems...that my kind has a near life-threatening intolerance to the steel. Why I’m not dead after so much exposure, I’m sure only they know.     I did not speak, nor did I beg-knowing that it would do no good, as my weakened form was lifted from the damp cot, and taken to be washed down in preparation for the next trial of experiments they’d decide to use me for.     Clean and dampened from the power wash I was given, I lie here on what those sick humans call the ‘project table’ awaiting the doctor that will bleed me like a stuck pig. Having been experiencing this for what feels like more than decades, I thought I would have gotten used to such inhumane experimentation by now; however, I am not in the least. It seems to be these humans' job to assure that I will never get used to the excruciating pain that would enrapture my body every time they see fit to test another theory of my physical and psychological being.     “Hello, Frost.”     The doctor’s voice brought me to the realization that I was no longer alone. There he stood, a young man behind him, no doubt, groomed to take over when this man would meet his demise.     I have outlived all of my so-called doctors-I, either ending their life or father time. This one would be no different, though admittedly, my feelings are mixed when it comes to this human in particular.     Though I never made the bother to learn his name, I admit that I hate him significantly less than all the others. While his job is cruel, he tries, in his own ways to help me get through life here as painless as possible; teaching me things in today’s basic literature, though careful not to give me anything that will inform me of the exact dates. For some reason, he has been ordered not to, but I know that the years passed have been unreasonably long.     Though my parents taught me much as a child, my knowledge grew for the better when this human arrived. This is why, while I hate this man for what he is about to do, I hate him less for what he has done for me, unlike the past doctors; who were significantly more callous than him.     He unlatched the mask from my face. I would usually be relieved for this but not when lying on this table. Unmasking me on the table usually meant that there would be experimentation done on the eyes, a suffering that can never be prepared for.     The doctor must have seen my bewildered and fearful gaze and smiled. “Don’t worry, Frost.” He said. “I’m only allowing you a chance to breathe.” He attempts to reassure me.     “Are you sure, that's the best idea, doctor?” I hear his assistant say.     “As long as you don’t look into her eyes, you should be fine.” He says with a smirk upon his face.     He used this as a ploy of amusement but his warning rang true; weak-minded souls never did fair too well when gazing into my eyes for some reason. He looked back down at me and smiled. I said nothing in response, however, nor did I give him a smile in return.     “How long have you been watching over her, doctor?”     “Longer than you’ve been alive.” The doctor said.     I watch as the boy dares a glance at me, steadily avoiding my eyes. “But, she looks so young.”     “Yes.” The doctor simply counters, checking my vitals.     “If you’ve been caring for her that long and she still looks that young then-” He paused, shifting his gaze between the doctor and me. “How old did you say she was again-”     “I didn’t.” The doctor says, and with one look he decides that the subject should be put to rest. He looked at me again.“I noticed that today is a special day.” The doctor smiles.      Naturally, I am confused, as it bears no significance to me.      “Happy Birthday, Frost!” The doctor wishes me.     Hmph, birthday? Birthdays are worthless for me-only a yearly reminder of what I’d lost as a child up until now. Being poked, prodded and god knows what else on a daily basis, and I should be excited about a birthday? A day where nothing changes for me, short of a break from that wretched mask. Birthdays exist to celebrate life. What I am going through-the condition I am in-this is no life worth celebrating.     “Ye’inē yelideti k’eni le’inē minimi maleti āyidelemi.” I hissed, birthdays mean nothing to me.     He did not understand the particular dialect, it being one that my parents and I spoke when I was a child. Nevertheless, he knew what I said. I’d been saying it without fail for over thirty-five years.     He smiles, regardless, “Maybe that will change today.” I look into his dancing, mature brown eyes, waiting for him to elaborate on such a confusing comment, but, of course, he does not. “Ready, the syringe Riley.” He said to the boy, who so carefully avoids my gaze. “I’m sorry that you have had to go through this for so long in years, Frost. I cannot imagine how harsh the years have been to you.” He muttered in words only a little louder than a whisper, placing something to my chest, checking whatever it is he usually checks before his procedures. “The countless experiments forced on you-a great deal, unfortunately, done by myself. How I truly regret those days. I only hope that one day I can make up for the travesties.”     I gulp heavily, watching as the boy makes his way over to the doctor, handing him the syringe filled with a yellow-green liquid. I knew then that this would not end well. I looked at him hastily.     “If you truly wish to make up for it, you will not stick me with that thing!” I say in tattered English, trying to steady my voice but unable to shake the fear from it.     He paused for a moment, watching me, his expression without tell before another smile would appear upon his face. He readied the needle. “But this is my way of making up for it.” He whispers.     “What?” I gasp in confusion. What did he mean?     “There was a reason I’ve been teaching you for all these years, Frost.” He says, his voice even lower now. “I didn’t want you out there unprepared.” He adds.     Unprepared? I do not understand and his vague words are starting to frighten me.     “I think I finally created something-” I watch the distant smile on his face. “Potent enough for you.” He looks down at me and readies the needle.     “No, please!” I scream. “N-” He injects the syringe into my neck and immediately, I am affected by it.     I can feel the difference circulating through my body as a resulting effect of this drug in particular. The voices that begin to echo through the room are suddenly fading into inaudible words, my body chilled to its core and my heart slowing its pace. This feeling is different than the others...I am dying.     My heavy eyes turn to the doctor as the mixed emotions of fear, and relief topples over me; fear of experiencing death and relief that I will never have to suffer again. All the while, in my final moments, I look into the doctor’s gaze, as the assistant’s voice echoes in the background of my thoughts concerning my steadily ceasing pulse. I don’t concern myself with him, however; I just continuously watch as the human that I have come to know as the closest thing to a friend looks at me. The final words I hear before I slip into an eternal slumber... “Happy Birthday, Frost.”......