Conrad Julius Ecklie (conrad_ecklie) wrote,
Conrad Julius Ecklie
conrad_ecklie

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Theatrical Muse: Week 245: Question 245

Name: Conrad Ecklie

Fandom:
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Word Count: 794


What's the first thing you remember?


I do not dream anymore. I have only nightmares. I relive things from the past, that twist and turn and change before my eyes into stretched out versions of what actually happened. I am put in their place; I am the one who is shot, the one who is violated, the one who is stabbed, the one, who is killed. I do not love, I am not happy, I work to live, because tomorrow will only bring a continuation of the past, a continuing of sheer and bottomless depravity, and someone has to be there to clean up the crap that the rest of humanity would never dare to touch.

In the morning, the first thing I remember is that I must get up. The nightmares slip away, and it is the inherent, long rooted need to function that grips me. Day off or not, I am always up early and functioning both quickly and swiftly. I am exact with my time, I do not, I never, waste it. Everything and everyone leaves, eventually, so it is up to me to drive my success and my well oiled functioning in life, and no one else.

In life, though, the first thing I remember, is my parents. I have etches of them, glimpses of their smiling faces, in the deep recesses of my memory, but those are not the happened circumstances that I am referring to. I remember my mother changing me on a changing table that has, now, long since been thrown out, discarded and left to rot. I remember the sunlight, so it must have been lunchtime, or thereabouts, because she carried me out and place me into a highchair, another fragment of my early life that does not exist anymore. She fed me, something which I don’t remember, and she said words I couldn’t yet comprehend the meaning of, because I was young, way, way too young. I remember my father holding me, hugging me, tight, too tight, and then the memory drips away into nothing. I must have fallen asleep.

That is one of my first memories, perhaps my first, because of the shapes and colours that I remember of it, were so early in the timeline that now forms my past, my life history. I know it is fragmented, because when I relive it, it moves too fast to have happened all in those short minutes, in those mere lines of memory that are drawn, seemingly, permanently, in my mind. I don’t mind. I don’t even care that it’s fuzzy around the edges and indistinct in the middle, because it is a memory of a past, my past, as yet unadulterated by the tragic changes that have haunted not my infancy, but my childhood, my adulthood, and beyond.

Memories are memories, and they lend themselves to many things. To nightmares, to fondness, happiness, painful emotions and the deepest regret. I keep my memories because I must remember my past, I have needed to, in order to become the well functioning man that I am now. If I forgot my past, and all that has happened in it, I would risk the chance of becoming, something undesirable, something, I would have never wanted to become in the first place, had I retained my past in all its alternately painful glory and horror.

I have nothing left to fear in life, because I already know what death has taken from me, and what else it can take from me. It will take my aunt, and in turn, it will take me. I do not fear the death of loved ones or family members, because aside from Agatha, I have no one left. The first thing in my life that I remember, is happiness, and the last thing I remember in my life, will be, death. In The years to come, in the decades I have left to walk this Earth, I will never be truly happy, and as such, because of this I am aware of the options that are available to me. I will live, I will lose my aunt, I will continue, I will retire, and I will die. Unless I am murdered, as seems the grim tradition my background has provided for me, then I will die a natural death, and in that, I will finally be free from the weight of my back history. I remember happiness, and I am waiting for death, but while I do not feel the former anymore, neither do I rush towards the latter. I will continue my life, until it ends, however it ends, and I have all my memories to thank for that. From my first memory, to the last, I will live, I will continue, and finally, I will die.
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