The Forsaken Call

by Jamie Murray

  After he was finished, he sat back down and felt more like a person. He knew he was a person, there was certainly no dispute there, but now that he was clothed, he felt like one. Lightly, he placed his hand on the jewels around his neck, and then removed the necklace so he could get his first good look at it. However, his good look was not much better than his not so great look, so he placed it on the small desk beside the bed he had chosen. He ran his fingers through his hair, and thought maybe it was too long, though he could never be sure, and started to wonder if he was clean. Meg hadn't suggested he clean himself, but he started to panic that he was dirtying the clothes she had made.

  He assured himself that he shouldn't get worked up over small things when he still didn't have any memory. For all he knew, Meg was a girl he had met a hundred times before. Then again, that didn't seem right because then she would have certainly recognized him. As he sat there, he became incredibly tired, so he thought he would lie down to rest for a minute or so before he called down to her.

  As he lied down, he became eye level with the necklace on the table. It increasingly intrigued him as he wondered what sort of significance the six jewels had and how they could possibly explain his mysterious past. Though he wanted to know all the answers, he didn't know who he could ask to get them from.

  He closed his eyes and became relieved with the darkness. The world he was in was so bright that he had to constantly remind himself to stop squinting, since it seemed to be something that concerned Meg. He opened his eyes once more to get another look at the necklace, hoping he would have a sudden revelation, but there was no difference in the way it sat, so he closed his eyes again and wondered.

  //////

  Hi everyone! Welcome to part 2. Actually, based on what I've written so far, I actually like this story as a part 1 much better, weirdly. So, if you happened to click on the story without realizing it's part 2, then don't worry because it's functionable as a "stand on its own". To people who are following me or the first "Erestina", I hope you all enjoy this one even more than the first one! Leave me a review and let me know about some of your predictions! Thanks!

  2. Jameson

  Chapter 2

  When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the ceiling. He turned his head slightly to look at the necklace, and it was still in the same place. However, he did wonder why he was looking at the ceiling and why there were now blankets on top of him. Cautiously, he sat up and he was in the same room Meg had led him to. He then recalled he was supposed to call to her, and wondered if he had accidentally fallen asleep.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand, but as he raised himself from the mattress, he found his head was suddenly crushed with pressure from within. He could hear his heartbeat in his skull, and let out an involuntary moan as he let himself fall back on the pillow. He lied there for only a few moments before he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs, and then looked at the doorway with his eyes to see Meg coming towards him with a cup of water in her hands.

  "You're awake," she said, kneeling beside the bed. "I was starting to get a little worried."

  "Why?" he asked, putting a hand on his head.

  "It's been almost a day since you went to sleep," she replied.

  "A day?" he said in disbelief. "It felt like a second. Why does my head hurt?"

  "You haven't had any water," she answered, handing the cup to him. "Drink that. I'm willing to bet your stomach hurts too, right?"

  He nodded as he sat up only enough to sip from the cup. Once the water touched his lips, he drank it as fast as he could without taking a breath. He noticed she looked different from the last time he had seen her; she was wearing a yellow dress and her hair was now hanging freely. He observed how it reached halfway to her waist as she knelt next to him and eagerly waited for his response.

  "Yes," he said, wiping his mouth.

  She took the cup from him. "You have to eat something," she said. "You wait here. I'll get you something to eat and some more water."

  Without even waiting for him to respond, she stood up and ran to the door. He tried to sit up but he found the water didn't do him any instant relief. Instead, he patiently waited for her return and when she did, she was holding the refilled cup of water and a small plate with only a half a loaf of bread on it.

  "I haven't got a chance to go shopping," she said, handing him the cup first and leaning on the table beside him to watch. "I didn't want to leave you alone."

  As he drank the water she brought him, he glanced up at her thankfully, and expressed his gratitude once again when he was finished. "Thank you," he said. "I don't even know how to repay you."

  "Can you remember anything?" she asked.

  He thought for a moment and realized he hadn't even considered his memory had returned when he awoke. Though, he quickly established he could not remember anything prior to waking up in the tunnel.

  "I remember you," he said. "That's it."

  He was surprised to see her smile in response as she nodded and reached out for the empty cup.

  "I never got a chance to ask, but how do the clothes fit?" she asked.

  "I don't know," he admitted, scrunching up some of the cloth in his hand and looking down at the shirt. "They feel good lying down. But I haven't walked around with them on yet."

  "That'll happen eventually," she assured him. "Once you get your strength back."

  She went to the doorway to leave him again, but then stopped and spun around. "Hey—" she said awkwardly. "What…should I call you?"

  "Are you asking me what my name is?" he said. "Because I don't know."

  "Oh," said Meg with a nod. "Well, then 'hey, you!' it is."

  "Wait," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "That doesn't make sense. Why don't you think of something to call me?"

  "Name you?" she nearly exclaimed as she ran back to the bed and sat down. "Isn't that weird?"

  "Why?"

  "Why don't you name yourself?" Meg said nervously.

  "I think that's weirder," he pointed out. "It's just a temporary thing. And, once I get my memory back, we won't even know the difference. You got any names you like?"

  Meg bit her lip. "Well," she said. "There is one."

  "And?" he led.

  "It's what I'm going to name my first son," she explained, but then backtracked. "Not that I think of you as a son, or my son for that matter, it's just a name that happens to have a lot of significance in my family!"

  "Your father's name?" he tried.

  She shook her head. "The name is Jameson," she said.

  "Jameson," he repeated thoughtfully. "Why?"

  "Well," Meg said, getting comfortable in her seat. "When I was a really little girl, I got very sick one day. I ate some kind of bad plant from the Forest in the east and nothing was making me better. Everyone thought I was going to die. Then my dad suddenly comes home and, on his way across the field, he had picked up two people who had asked for a ride. He did that sort of thing all the time, so it wasn't weird."

  "One of them was Jameson?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Meg. "As it turned out, he lived in the Forest and he happened to have some medicinal herbs with him, or whatever he called them. By the morning, I was all better!"

  "So he saved your life," he established.

  Meg smiled in remembrance. "Yeah," she said quietly as her smile faded.

  "What is it?" he said curiously, observing her change in expression.

  "Well, we only saw him once since then," Meg answered. "Once he was in the hospital with a burn, and it was a pretty short while after he cured me. But we didn't get to speak with him because he disappeared without saying anything."

  "He sounds mysterious," he concluded.

  "He was, a bit," Meg admitted.

  "Do you know what happened to him?"

  "Yes. His friend came by about a year later and told us he had been killed. I didn't really understand at the time. I can't even really remember his face. Most of what I remember about
him was just told to me by my father and sister."

  "That's too bad," he said.

  "I know," Meg sighed. "But my sister was pregnant when his friend came by, so she decided to name the baby Jameson when he was born. Unfortunately, she passed away before she came to term. So I promised myself I would name my first child Jameson to honor both him and my sister."

  "I'm sorry about your sister."

  "I barely remember her," Meg said, standing up.

  "Are you sure you want to give the name to me if it's so important?"

  "Well, like you said, it's only temporary," Meg reminded him as she returned to the doorway. "You'll be getting your memory back soon enough."

  "What if I don't?" he asked.

  She leaned on the wood. "You will," she said. "You will, Jameson."

  He smiled at her and she only looked at him a moment before quickly turning away and descending the stairs. As he rolled over to get more comfortable, his eyes once again fell on the necklace with the strange stones linked on it, and then he said quietly to himself, "Jameson."

  3. Isn't Anyone Evil

  Chapter 3

  Jameson fell asleep again, because when he woke up he knew for sure it was the next morning. Meg's bed seemed to finally be made, so he climbed out of the bed and stood up. His head still had a faint pain in the back of it as his stomach growled, but he felt much better than how he had felt the last time he awoke. He made the bed and cleaned up the best he could around the area, all the while trying to strain his brain in hopes that he might remember anything about his past. Still, he found his luck unsuccessful.

  He went to the stairs and peered down them to see Meg beneath him, fixated on a piece of cloth and a needle in her hand. She didn't look up until he made a noise coming down the stairs, and then she eagerly raised her head.

  "You're up!" she exclaimed, putting the cloth down.

  "It's all right," he said, gesturing for her to continue her work. "You don't have to get up."

  "Of course I do," said Meg as she stood and walked to the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him to reach her. "Are you feeling any better?" She paused, and then added, "Jameson?"

  "Yeah," he said, leaning his head against the wall. "It didn't take much, though."

  "I'd imagine so," Meg remarked. "How's your memory?"

  Jameson pushed off the wall and pretended to be interested in a rack of clothing as he ran his hand across each shirt. "I think something's coming along," he said, though he knew he was lying just to make her feel better.

  "That's good," said Meg, almost as if she knew he wasn't telling the truth. She turned and went back to her sewing. Jameson watched her intently for a minute or so, and then she said, "I would offer you something to eat, but I haven't had a chance to go to the market."

  "What's stopping you?" Jameson asked.

  "I don't want to leave you here alone," Meg answered as if it were obvious.

  "I'll come along," Jameson suggested.

  "I couldn't ask you to do that," Meg said, shaking her head.

  "You didn't ask me," Jameson pointed out. "I want to go."

  Meg smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "Well, maybe you should," she said, standing up again. "Maybe while you're walking around, someone might recognize you. You might even have a shop in town or a family who are all looking for you. If you live in Market City, someone is bound to recognize you."

  "And even if someone's recognizes me, I'll help you carry everything back here," Jameson offered.

  "It's a deal then," Meg said. "Let's both clean up and then go, all right?"

  Jameson nodded, and so Meg took him around the back of the house and showed him how to use the water pump. He caught on very quickly, and the two of them jokingly speculated he had one just like it at his home. When Jameson suggested the notion that he should clean the clothes he was wearing, Meg immediately waved it off and told him it would be no problem for him to pick out something new.

  He graciously accepted her offer and searched all of her piles for what he thought might be appropriate, but he finally confessed he had no idea what he should wear and wanted her to pick something for him again.

  "Well, you should pick something out for yourself," Meg said. "After all, sometimes it's more difficult to recognize someone if they're wearing clothes they don't normally wear."

  "How am I supposed to know what I normally wear?" Jameson sighed.

  "You should know instinctually what you find attractive and what you find not," Meg said.

  Jameson looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but she immediately turned away and pretended to be preoccupied with something else.

  "Fine, this then," Jameson said, lifting a green shirt from a pile.

  "Maybe it's your favorite color," Meg suggested.

  "Maybe," Jameson said. "I like it, I guess."

  He took a pile of clean clothes with him to wash up. Meg watched him leave and then peered at the room at the top of the stairs. Ever since he had arrived, she had thought a lot about the necklace he was wearing since it was, after all, the only thing he had in his possession when she found him.

  When she found him. Those words sounded so peculiar. To think that only a few days ago she had never even known of his existence, and all of a sudden she was caring for him and devoting almost all of her time to helping him find out who he was. Still, it was a story almost no one could believe. And, although she tried to remain optimistic in front of Jameson, she was worried that his memory might never return. If that was the case, she didn't know what she was supposed to do with him.

  However, she smiled as she thought of the endearing way he saw everything for the first time. And she wasn't about to lie to herself and say she wasn't attracted to him. For a fleeting moment, she figured maybe he could stay with her if he never recovered his memory, but she shook her head at the thought. She knew it would be impossible, but then she stopped to consider a question: why was it impossible for him to stay?

  She still wondered that to herself as he returned looking refreshed and announced he was ready to leave.

  "Should you take that necklace with you?" she asked.

  "Why?" he said.

  "We could ask some of the jewelry stands if they've ever seen it before and know which family they sold it to," Meg suggested.

  "That's a good idea," Jameson nodded.

  He went up the stairs and she stood at the bottom to wait for him. "I think you should have it with you all the time," she called up to him. "It's the only clue you have to who you are."

  "Yeah," Jameson said as he tromped down the stairs.

  "Where is it?" Meg asked.

  "In my pocket," Jameson answered.

  "You don't want to wear it?"

  "Should I?"

  "Maybe someone will recognize it. Maybe it's part of your family."

  "I guess. Good idea."

  He pulled it out of his pocket and put it around his neck. Meg looked at it closely for a moment, and then back up at him. "I've never seen anything like it," she said. "It's unique. Maybe it's unique to you or your family."

  "Then I suppose I should keep it all the time," Jameson shrugged.

  They left the shop with baskets in hand in order to carry things back from the market. Meg led to the way down the streets and asked him if anything seemed familiar. When he said it wasn't, she said, "Keep your eyes open," she told him. "Observe everything. Try to remember who you are."

  Jameson agreed as they walked out into a busy street. His eyes immediately widened as he saw other people for the first time, as long as he could remember, anyway. The streets were crowded and it was loud with bustling pedestrians or people pulling entire carts, ringing bells and coaxing shoppers to give their ware a second look. The sides of the street were lined with kiosks in between doorways that led to other shops, which created alleyways where even more shops and stands were located.

  Jameson hesitated before stepping into the craziness of the market, and Meg noticed his caution.
/>   "Are you all right?" she said to him.

  "I don't know," he answered quietly.

  Meg sighed heavily. "I don't think we're going to find anyone who knows you here," she said.

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "You obviously don't see many crowds," she replied. "And this place is always crowded."

  Jameson wondered if what Meg said might have been right. The large amount of people he was seeing did seem completely unnatural to him, while something he must have done a thousand times, like making a bed, was easy.