Night Fury: First Act by Belle Aurora

Description : Night Fury: First Act
Childhood memories.

What purpose do they serve?

To oblige afort for the weak of mind? Perhaps a reminder of better times? To assist as hope on dark days?

Memories are subjective and one-sided.

They are a double-entendre.

My childhood memories are not like others.

I don’t remember my mother...or my father, for that matter.

My first solid memoryes from when I was five years old.

It is frequent.

It is repetitive.

It is a lesson. One I have not forgotten.

This memory serves me well.

I’m awoken with a start. Panting, sweating and angry. A growl sounds from deep in my throat; it hurts, but the pain isforting.

I can’t remember the dream.

I hear her voice—my mother—but her face is dim. This makes me angry. Furious. My growl turns guttural; my face beads with sweat. I shake with rage.

They taunt me—the dreams.

I hold my balled fists by my temple. I don’t need anyone to tell me my knuckles are white. I fist them so tightly; they’re numb.

She’s in there; I know she is.

Why can’t I remember her?

The nuns tell me it’s not possible for me to have these memories, and they are merely nightmares. My mind is playing tricks.

Sister Francis opens the door to my bedroom. It’s always her. She is the only one with the patience to deal with me. Everyone else has given up.

I like Sister Francis.

Continuously growling until my throat burns, I avoid her worried gaze. She coos at me from across the room, arms open, but something stops her from providing thefort I so desperately need.

My growling stops. Instead, I listen.

Father Robert holds Sister Francis back. They argue quietly. I’m not sure what is happening, but Sister Francis...her...
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