“One memory,” they say. “That’s all you’re allowed.”
On this post-apocalypse Earth, we must let go of our history. It is a second Big Bang, but skipping the primordial soup, the dinosaurs, the Neanderthals, the Fourth World War.
One personal memory – a harmless one – is the only concession they make.
I step into the booth, still undecided what memory I should like to keep: first kiss, first love, my parents, my dog, best holiday ever.
“Think now,” the machine states. I have ten seconds before only one cherished memory will remain to me.
My mind goes blank.
D.M. over 8 years ago
Great last line! (Wow, tough decision.)
T. Willemann over 8 years ago
I think mine would be of someone showing kindness, but that may clash with the provision, that the memory has to be 'harmless'?
Tough question, good drabble.
Julie over 8 years ago
Thank you D.M. and Thomas. I always find that if someone asks me to think of my favourite song or such like, in a short space of time, my mind goes blank and I can't think of anything. I think it's the pressure of having to think quickly. Anyway, that was the thought that evolved into this drabble.
Michael D. Brooks over 8 years ago
Julie, I can't help thinking of the consequences (and frustration) of living with no memory of anything. Good or bad. Great last line.
Julie over 8 years ago
Thanks for reading and for your comment, Michael; I quite agree with you.