Old vignette I wrote years ago

We lived here once.

 

My memory, as the others, is spotty at best. Random flashes of a time before

 

          I remember the laughter I shared here. It was different then. Louder. I miss all the different cacophony of sounds that once filled the air. I’d prefer any noise over this absolute silence. It feels like it’s swallowed us whole. Eating us away. Eating us away little by little. Pieces of me are long since gone. We’ve all been picked clean. Nothing left but

 

          It was so much more cluttered here once, with things packed so tightly everywhere as if to evoke a feeling of claustrophobia. It was so different from this featureless waste. There’s nothing left, but sand now. Nothing to look at now, so we all stare into the endless horizon, the sun harshly bearing down on us as we trundle forever across the sand. We’ve walked for so long, but have an eternity to go. Never stopping. Never resting. Why are we the ones to suffer? When will we finally be allowed to

 

          I’ve fallen. The others continue on, not sparing a glance, until one jerkily stops and offers a hand. A bony hand. My own bleached arm clasps its. As it pulls me up we stare into each others featureless sockets and suddenly I remember. We’re nothing more than skeletons held together by sheer force of memory. We’re nothing more than d

 

We lived once.