What happens when you don't remember who you are?
You wake up one morning, realizing that a stranger is sleeping in your bed. He claims to be your husband, but you don't recall his face. He is nice and very handsome, but to you, he is just a stranger. You don't even remember the past years, nor who you are or the woman you used to be. Are his memories going to be enough for both of you? And how can you have a future, when you don't have a past? Could your memories come back? Maybe if you touched him, just a tiny part of him, it would all make sense. Because, right now, none of it does...
Forgotten is a bittersweet short erotic story about memories, hope, love and faith, and what happens when you lose all of those (and your partner remembers everything). It's an exploration of love, hope and misery. Not for the faint at heart, and certainly not for those who are hoping for a light read without any heartbreak. In this one, you won't find kinky sex (only vanilla), nor will you conquer the world. Sorry, not this time.
The story itself is penned in 2,000 words, but I do believe that there is a whole lifetime in it.
Behind the story - Inspiration struck
The idea came to me a few years after I watched The Vow. I knew that time as well that I would be inspired by the movie at some point in my life. Well, this was that moment. I guess I have always found the concept interesting, and I played a lot with the thought. What if one day you woke up without your memories? There are so many things in life all of us take for granted, up until the very moment those things are taken away.
The air we breath, the land we walk on. Our eyes, ears, legs, our very existence. How many times do we actually stop and feel grateful for everything we have? I know I do it every day. Yes, every single day. I thank the Universe for my life, every single day. And below is the reason why.
The more personal reason behind it all...
Maybe the topic is so close to me, because I've had glasses since I was three years old. I know it sounds a far fetch at first, but just hear me out. That time my mum didn't know what was wrong with me, I just kept telling her that my eyes were hurting. Which is pretty intense for a three-year-old. She hurried to the nearest hospital with me, and they referred us to a 'specialist'. Oh, he was a specialist, all right. Except not in sorting out my problem.
He had one look at me from behind his thick black retro glasses and told my mum that there was no hope for me. His words were along the lines of "we need to operate straight away, but there is no point really, as the child is completely blind". Now, I knew even at that young age that he was wrong. I could see him, although not that clearly. Still, his words were enough to raise panic in both of us. My mum asked if she could stay with me in the hospital, and all she got was a rude 'no way'.
I guess I don't have to mention that my mum insisted on getting a second opinion. We left the 'specialist' dumbfounded, as he didn't understand why we wouldn't do as he said. Oh, well, we had more important things to worry about. Like my health, and why did my eyes hurt. Believe it or not, on our way home, my mum started crying silently, and if it wasn't for that, my sight probably wouldn't have been saved.
One of her friends spotted us straight away, and she asked what was wrong. When my mum told her, she became furious, but also told us about a possible solution. I was referred to a real specialist this time, and it turned out that I did need an operation - although it wasn't as serious as the other 'specialist' insisted.
Well, the operation took place when I was 5 and 6, first on one eye, then the other. The first one went really well, but after the second, my eyes turned out to be allergic to the thread the doctors used, so in I went again for an emergency surgery. It was a major scare, but luckily, no permanent damage. Well, apart from the fact that I will always have to wear glasses. Every day, for the rest of my life. But trust me, it was a small price to pay.
I've had glasses since that initial examination, when I was only 3. That was 27 years ago, and not much changed. Except for one thing: my eyes. I need new glasses every year. Well, you could say that I'm lucky, because I see (nearly) perfectly with them. And I am. It took me a while to realize just how lucky I was, but I've known it for a long time now. And I also know something else: things could have been worse. So, I give thanks for my eyesight every day, and that's always been something I didn't take for granted.
And hence my parallel to memories. In a way, they are similar. Just like my eyesight, memories can be taken away any minute, too. Just think about Alzheimer's disease or major injuries that effect the brain. Apologies if this post turned out to be a tad bit sad, but life isn't full of butterflies and unicorns (at least not all the time). And, just like my real life story, Forgotten is bittersweet, too. And maybe that's why it is so close to my heart, maybe even more than any other one I have published so far.
Because it could happen to any one of us, anytime. Caution, it isn't kinky, nor steamy, although it is erotic. However, despite my usual tendency to explore one's hidden desires, this time it's about exploring one's true identity and lost sexuality. In a kind of vanilla way. So, please don't expect kinky sex scenes, but rather sweet and innocent seduction and timid attempts. But trust me, the overall experience will be just as epic, and it will probably talk to other important parts of your body (like your mind, heart and soul). Of course, all of that told my way.
An Excerpt from the actual story
“You still don’t remember, do you?” I shake my head again, painfully aware of my lack of clothing. Apparently, I like to sleep naked. And I don’t sleep alone. I just wish I remembered. Cole did say that I went in for a simple check-up, ended up in an emergency operation, and then I was in a coma. I had high fever, and my body was giving up, and nobody knew why. And then all of a sudden I was back, only my memories were gone. I guess I should feel lucky, but the thought that I forgot such a loving man breaks my heart. Not to mention the fact that most of my life is also missing. “Cole, can I ask you something?” I fiddle with the blanket, pulling it back over me, despite the heat. God, I don’t even know if it’s summer or the winter heating that has me sweating. Surely my husband has something to do with it, too. The one I don’t remember. But, according to him, we have been married for six years. “Sure, shoot.” “How did we meet?” His eyebrow shoots up, and I can see the pain my question brought into his hazel eyes. A trip down memory lane might not be such a good idea for him right now, but I need to know. How could I build a future, if I don’t have a past?