Ruyton Girls' School - Scripsi 2016

finish writing, I find I still have 10 minutes to spare.

At lunch, I try to describe this strange flash of memory to my

friends as we walked to the oval.

“…And once I answered that question, everything else just came

flooding back to me!”

“I told you, you were going to ace it!” My friend, Sophie exclaimed.

“Hey, so what are you going to wear to my party this weekend?”

I close my eyes and I’m suddenly blasted back in time to primary

school, grade 3, sitting on top of the monkey bars, where Sophie

asked me this exact question eight years ago.

Sophie’s 7

birthday was a blistering hot day and we were all

melting like the delectable ice creams in our hands. We all danced

on the sweet, freshly cut grass in her backyard to the catchy,

repetitive songs from High School Musical for hours. Sophie

suddenly bored had an idea, “Guys! I know what we should do!

Let’s all get on the bikes!”

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. We had the wind in

our hair, everyone laughed in their high pitched voices with the vast

road ahead of us… Until it wasn’t a good idea anymore. Sophie fell

off her bike and fractured her arm in two places, the humerus and

the ulna. I rode her back on the handlebars of my bike to her house

where were found we were just in time for cake. A shadowy figure

is holding the birthday cake in the doorway, but it’s too vague, too

blurry and too obscure to make out who it is. How strange it is that

I can remember everything else, but not the simplest detail of

someone who was there?

An hour and a million thoughts later, I’ve become so

overwhelmed and tired. All this memory recall makes my head spin,

black spots form in my vision and my stomach heaves… Now, every

face, object and place triggers a memory in my head and I can’t

make it stop. Eventually my will gives in and my dad finds me curled

up on the matron’s bed ready to be collected.

Thump, thump, thump my head throbbed. It was quickly

becoming too much to bear. I could feel every memory dancing,

swirling and jumping around in my head. I pull the warm, cozy

covers over me as I climb into bed. But my mind won’t let me sleep.

There’s one final thing for me to look back on, the furthest memory

of them all. The year is 2001 and I’m only 7 pounds big. Before my

eyes open, I can hear joyous laughter and chatter from nearby. Light

Remember It All