dumping the idea of "what if the rising sea level sunk Ned's home?" for Sve.
{"I Will Remember You."}
do you remember how we met it was at my island on the shore of a tropical kingdom you were seeking for plants you brought strange people who spoke strange language so pale like ghost so tall like young trees then we clashed our blades our guns our fists I told you to leave but you insisted on staying you didn't leave until centuries later-----"I will remember you."
Just like any other day in the past years--
how many decades had passed? Nine? Ten?--, when she woke up this morning she still had no idea who was she talking to. She had been repeating the same sentence countless times. Like a spell, a mantra; but the one who uttered it was no wizard or shaman... it was useless. She tried her best to believe in herself, to trust her memory, even though her attempts so far were futile, and deep down the same doubt lingered still. Being a stubborn, she refused to stop.
Keep going. Go deeper.The woman rose, dark brown orbs glancing to her phone. A reminder popped up on its screen, telling her the agenda for today. The personification of Indonesia wasn't one who write plans in her phone, but this was different. A tiny fragment from what used to be something big, something powerful. Something--
someone?--who once a part of her, and she, too, once a part of him.
Him. It's him. Today was the only day Nesia allowed herself to
sink, once in a decade. But to do so, she had to
fly first. So whilst her physical body busied with daily mundane activities, she let her mind wandered. Gone to a place whose name no longer remembered among the living mortals.
Just like him.***
What was the room looked like? Walls, wooden floor... oh, there was a table between them. They were sitting, facing each other; or at least that was how she perceived it. "I will remember you," she had said back then. A silence ensuing afterwards in her mind, her train of thought halted in confusion. Was that a statement, a hope or a lie?
He chuckled. Then he said it. The truth about what would occur. "So you say. Rome and ancient Greece are remembered because their cities have survived. The ocean will claim all of mine, and any memories you have of me with it."
Nesia needed no warning; she had seen it happened to other people. To other nations. Nevertheless, she didn't want him suffered from the same fate. The woman spoke again, "why are you so calm, even though you know you're going to..." she stopped, leaving the question unfinished.
***
She didn't remember much about those days. After their conversation, Nesia tried to visit him at least once a year. The woman would tell him news from all over the world, sometimes cook for him or bring him flowers--
didn't he like tulips?The florist right in the corner was long gone, replaced by a large mansion. A guilty feeling grew in her heart.
Maybe if she didn't spend too much time shopping here, decades ago, Nesia could see him for one last time. When she finally arrived at his house, someone told her that he just left few minutes ago, heading to the beach. She was late.
That one bad habit eventually leading to her biggest regret.
Guided by her fading memory, Nesia walked down the street. She passed his old house; the place was turned into an inn. At least the inn looked warm and lively, she commented as she glanced through the window. It was tempting to steer herself inside, sit and enjoy a cup of warm beverage; but time wasn't something she could spend freely. It was a luxury for a nation like her. Shaking her head, Nesia resumed her walk straight to the beach. Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the same landmark--
old and broken and worn--still standing tall above the waves. It was a windmill, the only structure survived from his sunken homeland.
She took her shoes off and rolled her jeans up to her knees. The woman gingerly walking on the wet, cold sand, letting the freezing waves washing her tired feet. She watched the water coming and going in silence, both hands on her sides clutching flowers: a bouquet of tulips and a small rattan basket full of colorful, fragrant flower petals. Balancing the bouquet on her elbow, Nesia held the basket higher, one free hand pinched some petals.
He must had been missing his house. I should have knew that.Nesia took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sea as well as roses, jasmine, ylang, white champaca and frangipani from the basket. The intoxicating scent that could calm the raging underworld and summoning the undead. In swift motions, she spread the petals to the water, hoping the current would bring them to the windmill. It's the place he was last seen, according to a fisherman she encountered decades ago.
There were footprints leading to the windmill belonged to one man. The owner himself was nowhere to be found, and there were no return footprints either. Nesia waited until the sun set and the moon rose and the date eventually changed before she called for help to search him. And that was when she realized that she couldn't even describe his appearance. She couldn't even recall his name.
Now that the basket was empty, Nesia put it aside and directed her attention to the bouquet. There were ten tulips; one for each decade passed after his--
death? No, no, he's not dead yet!--passing. She carefully undone the knot keeping them together, picked a red tulip, and gently laid it down on the water. The woman repeated the process until nine red tulips scattered across the sea, and in her clutch left the last flower: an orange one. She kissed it gently, then let the flower joined the others at the sea.
He's gone. The ocean finally claimed him, as it had claimed his cities.
Knowing she didn't have much time left, Nesia started to leave the beach, empty rattan basket swinging as she walked. Deep down, she's wondering if the windmill would still stand ten years later or would she still remember to visit this place again. The lurking doubt gnawed on that thought.
***
"I will remember you."
It was a lie.
-----and here I am almost a thousand years later on your shore reminiscing the days I can't even recall correctly about you and why am I clinging on every piece of you I could remember like my life was hanging on that thin rope you are gone gone gone from the world from my memories from the history pages why the time is so cruel to us I just want to be able to remember your face your name why why why you didn't say goodbye to me?
