The Scholar

A flash of black hair. With flecks of green. He remembered.

But did he?

Was it green with streaks of black? He worried that perhaps time was causing him to forget. But no, that would not happen now. He would not forget her. He couldn't. He couldn't because he had spent so much time looking for her that everything else fell away. If she faded from his memory, he would be nothing now.

He continued searching because there was nothing else for him to do.

It had been ten years. What was he really expecting to find now?

"I want you to," it was a voice. Cold and indistinct, but still with that familiar tone. "I want you to promise."

A promise? Had he ever made a promise? He couldn't remember now. He knew now that he was not making promises to anyone. But that was now. Maybe he did make promises before. Before, when his friends, no - his family still knew each other's names. Before. When she was still around.

Names. He did not think he had forgotten any of them. But he did not trust himself so much to go looking for any of them now, either.

"I want you to promise me something." A voice again. A flash of green and of black. He did not trust himself, but he knew he had to ask someone.

Even if they were just a memory.

A bearded man surrounded by books. His body looked unsturdy. A ball mounted on two sticks. It was quite clear that he had spent the past ten years devoted to his studies. Thick glasses framed his slightly rounded face.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, not looking up from the yellowed book he was fingering.

"I am looking for someone."

"Ah sir, I am afraid I cannot help you. I have lived in close proximity to my books for the past ten---"

The man stopped and gazed, open-mouthed at the figure standing before him.

And then, nodding knowingly, the figure responded. "You remember me, don't you?"

The man smiled for a moment, and looked up from his book. "Have you found her yet?"

But the figure stood still and simply stared.

"I see. Well, logically speaking, I have no idea why you are still looking? But," the tone in the man's voiced warmed, "as a friend, I know that nothing I could stay will stop you. What do you wish to know? I mean, why did you want to speak to me? Surely, you know that after she left - we all kind of fell apart and I sort of retreated into my library. I've always loved my books and, at first, I kind of thought that studying these texts might help me figure out what happened to her - but then, I began to realise that, even if I did find something that would help me - there was nothing I could do anymore. I was only one person," the man hung his head. "Eventually I stopped looking for answers, I know that makes me a bad person. I know---"

He stopped him, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "it does not make you a bad person. It makes you human. No one could hold it against you. I certainly don't. In any case, I came here to ask you something."

"What is that?" that man said, lifting his glasses onto his forehead.

"What do you remember of her? I find it difficult to trust my own memories, but I think the key to finding her still lies there."

The man ran his fingers through his short hair for a moment and then looked at the figure with a tired expression on his face. "I can say that I remember very little. She has since faded from my thoughts, I regret to say. But that's ultimately what happens, I suppose, people move on."

The figure stood silent.

"I am sorry that I could not be of more help to you. I, however, wish you luck. I suppose that you will need it."

The figure, unflinching, responded. "Where are the others?"

The man pointed one figure in the air. "While I do know who you mean, I am afraid that none of them told me where they disappeared to. It's really a shame how quickly all of them wanted to distance from their friends. I didn't understand it while it was happening. I didn't understand it, even though I was part of it. I still don't understand it, truth be told."

The figure closing his eyes with regret, began to leave the man's small library but, as he turned to leave, the scholar called out to him.

"Ah! Perhaps there is one person!" He said, rummaging through a set of old papers. "Yes!" he handed the tall man standing at his door one of the papers. "While I realise that you two did not get along in the past, as far as I can recall - he is really the only person I have any information on at all."

And then, slowly and carefully, the figure stepped back outside - trying to restrain a slight smile forcing his lips up towards his wind-blown cheeks.

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Part two of what seems to be an actual bit of a story. Ha.

Love,
~Kal.