Who are you?

MUSICAL MUSINGS

Use these lyrics to build your piece of fiction around.

"Remember me
Well honestly I don't remember who you are”
Liam Finn: Second chance

The Confider lent her head against the worn timber box, smoothed with ageless hands and heads such as hers. A rustle of thick handspun material heralded the arrival of another Admissor. The rattling gift of a bent guish confirmed her suspicions that the Admissor would be uneducated and therefore The Confider only half listened to the hesitation in her speech and the laboured breathing of guilt.

“And then Annoska…”

That name. The Confider snapped into the present sharply focusing on the words of her Admissor.

A name only used by the families in the far flung hillsides. A snatched vision of a child spinning around in a tree swing, of playtime in the waterfalls, of racing through the grassed slopes. She couldn’t recall if this was one of her memories or one she had heard about.

The Confider was never meant to question, to speak or to pass judgment. They were there to carry the burden of guilt, to free the Admissors of the dark energies which clouded pure thought and productivity. A Confider was chosen in their first blooded moon. They must be intelligent and show an aptitude for harnessing energies. Through a myriad of ceremonies, heightened by hallucinogenic plants, they were stripped bare of their identities in order to serve the Empress and ultimately the Goddess. Confiders lead a solitary existence, wandering the empire; cleansing as they went. They sold their secrets to the highest bidder in court and were protected by the Empress’s powers. Although often richer than the highest Governesses of the State, they were poor in relationships and personal space.

“I carry Annoskas sorrow too. I only wish she knew how I felt. ..” The Admissor droned on, unloading her guilt and monotonous story.

The Confider shuddered. Another unbidden memory was unlocked, flooding her senses. The stench of a fire overcoming the stockhouse, the screams of trapped villagers, the pulsing lights from the sky, exploding everything they highlighted.

She couldn’t remember her childhood. Theoretically she knew she had one, but the ceremony was too strong and her memories had been wiped. For the first time in fifty full season changes, she wished she had a name. She wished she could remember.. anything.

“Annoska took my place in the academy. She blamed me for what happened. I knew it was her, but I kept her sorrow, I kept her secrets…”

A deep bell tone sounded, reverberating within the Confiders chest. She reached out to the Admissor and touched her sleeve. She murmured the ceremonial words of blessing and asked for the energies to be passed to her. The all familiar rush of blackness, of horror and sadness engulfed her as she cleansed her Admissor. It was quickly replaced by new sensation of burning, the smell of charred flesh and the sound of her heart hammering in fear. This was not supposed to happen. She jerked her hand away in alarm.

The Admissors eyes gleamed in gratitude as she bowed and turned to leave the cubical. The smell of musty charcoal lingered.

Anooska, your secrets are safe. You never leant to listen did you?

The confider turned quickly to stare into the eyes of the last Admissor “Remember me?”

The confiders eyes turned to slits. “You know as well as I do, I have no name. I have no past. I don’t know you”

“How can you not remember? You must remember me. Isn’t that why you came back?”

The Confider breathed professionally inward and held her hand over the Admissors chest. “ I release your guilt. I honestly don’t know who you are or what you are talking about. Please, take my blessing and move on. There are many other Admissors waiting”

The Admissors eyes glittered with tears or frustration and past sorrows. “Anosska, I have kept your secrets. I have kept your sorrows. I should have been a Confider, not you. How can you not remember?”

The Confider spun round and pulled a curtain between them, listening for the leaving footsteps outward.

“I honestly don’t remember. I wish I did. I don’t know who I am.” She whispered. For the first time in her memory, she feared who she was.

This is my first draft for this story and its part of research for my book I will be writing for NANO - so watch for more linked research ( the lables will be marked Mistress Moon)