The Curse of Memories

The world never stopped moving. Each day unfolded with new colors, each night gave birth to fresh memories. But for Alexander, life remained a cycle of repetition—beautiful but painfully empty. As he stepped into a new school for his final year, he carried the weight of past years, forced to rewrite the last chapter of his school life from the beginning.

Everything felt unfamiliar, yet strangely the same. The walls, the hallways, the whispers of students in passing—it all blended into a dull hum in his mind. He had been in this school for a week now, long enough to understand that he was alone. While students formed groups and friendships, he sat in the corner of the classroom, watching from a distance. He wasn’t shy, nor was he afraid of others. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain. It felt as if he was waiting—for what, he wasn’t sure.

But there was someone else who seemed just as alone as him.

At the very back of the classroom, always in the same spot, sat a girl. No one spoke to her, no one acknowledged her presence, as if she existed in a separate reality. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes, deep and distant, were always fixed on an old clock on the wall. The first time Alexander noticed her, he thought she was just another quiet student. But as days passed, he realized something strange—she never interacted with anyone, never changed her seat, and the moment school ended, she disappeared. It wasn’t like she walked out with the other students; it was as if she simply ceased to exist.

Curiosity gnawed at him. He found himself glancing at her every day, trying to understand the mystery surrounding her. He told himself it was just his imagination, that she was just another student lost in her own world. But deep down, something about her felt… familiar.

One afternoon, during lunch break, Alexander made a decision. He stood up and walked toward her. As he approached, the girl slowly turned her head to look at him. The moment their eyes met, his breath caught in his throat. There was something in her gaze—not surprise, not confusion, but recognition. As if she had been expecting him.

"Hi… I’m Alexander," he said hesitantly. "I see you sitting alone every day. Why don’t you talk to anyone? Are you okay?"

The girl remained silent for a moment before answering in a soft voice, "I’m waiting…"

"Waiting?" he repeated, puzzled. "For who?"

"For you."

A chill ran through his body. He had never met her before, yet her voice stirred something deep within him. A distant memory? A dream? He couldn’t tell.

The girl lifted her hand and pointed toward the old clock. "When the time reaches zero," she whispered, "I will disappear again… and you will forget me, just like you always do."

His head spun. "What do you mean?" he asked, a sense of unease creeping into his voice.

But before she could answer, something strange happened.

A flood of images burst into his mind—visions of an ancient battlefield, the sound of galloping horses, the scent of smoke and blood in the air. He saw a city in flames, a desperate chase, and a promise made under a blood-red sky.

"If there is a next life, I will find you again…"

Alexander stumbled backward, his pulse racing. His breathing was erratic as he looked at the girl, realization dawning on him. "Anastasia…" he whispered the name without thinking.

She smiled—a sad, knowing smile. "You say that in every lifetime," she murmured, "yet you always forget. You fail every time. But I… I always wait for you somewhere in the world, until my existence fades away completely."

Her words sent a sharp ache through his chest. He wanted to say something, to ask her what was happening, but before he could, a single tear slipped from her eye.

And within that tear, he saw something—two reflections, his and hers, locked in a cycle of endless reunions and tragic farewells.

The hands of the clock began to move backward. The air around her shimmered like mist, her form dissolving before his very eyes.

"No!" Alexander lunged forward, reaching out to grasp her hand, but his fingers touched nothing but air.

"Find me again," she whispered as the last traces of her existence faded into nothingness.

Then, silence.

The next morning, Alexander sat alone in his usual corner, his eyes locked onto the old clock. But this time, the hands did not turn back. There was no flicker of mist, no whisper of a forgotten past.

The world was still beautiful, but now, it was emptier than ever before.