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Forget Me Not… (Short Story)

Theme: Forget Me Not

Challenge/Month: Monthly Simlit Short Story/March 2023

Genre: Angst

Word/Picture Count: 1,000 words/12 pictures

Original Note: This is the first time in a long time that I’ve whipped up something for MSSS and I feel a bit rusty, to be sure. Why did this turn out as pure angst? I have no idea, that’s just where the prompt took me lol I also used Bluebells to represent Forget Me Nots because it’s the only blue flower that resembled it. The house used in this fic is “Family Farmhouse” made by eggiebabe on the gallery with a few edits to better fit the story.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ☔ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ 🍂 ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

For as long as I can remember, there has always been a baby blue flower on my bedside table every morning. I have no idea where they come from and, when I asked my mom about it, she always said that I probably put it there and just forgot about it. At first, I was adamant that I had nothing to do with it, but she insisted. After years of being told this, I started believing it myself.

Was I sleepwalking? I had no idea, but it worried me because I knew it wasn’t normal. I tried staying up to catch the culprit multiple times, but sleep always claimed me. As I got older, life started to get harder and I started to forget about them, despite still finding them every morning. I was so focused on other things that the flowers became insignificant to me. I started to ignore them and they started to pile up on the table.

And then, one day, they just stopped. The flowers disappeared and no new ones appeared in their place. I was relieved at first but then I started to feel lonely. It felt like something important was missing from my life. It drove me nuts because I couldn’t figure it out. I became obsessed with trying to remember. My grades started to slip because I skipped class. My friends got tired of asking me to hang out only for me to tell them that I was too busy.

“If you want to be alone that badly, fine!” exclaimed my friend after turning down her invite again. “It takes two people to make a friendship work and I’m tired of chasing you.”

“I never asked you to chase me!” I snapped back.

But my heart ached as she stomped away angrily. For the first time in a long time, I was officially alone and it was my own doing. Why did I say that? Why did I push all of my friends away? I didn’t have an answer and I honestly felt like I was losing my mind but that forgotten memory kept clawing at the edge of my mind. It was just out of reach and every time I got close, it slipped farther away.

Eventually, I was kicked out of university, fired from my job, and kicked out of my apartment. I had to move back in with my mom which I absolutely hated because all we did was argue about the smallest things. No matter how hard I tried, she just knew exactly what buttons to press to upset me and there’s only so much a single sim can take before they blow up.

“Do you think you can manage to clean the attic this time or do I need to ask you five more times?” questioned my mother, giving me an attitude as she headed for the front door.

“I already told you, I didn’t clean it yesterday because I got called in for a job interview,” I replied, trying to keep my annoyance hidden to avoid another fight.

“Which you didn’t even get,” she scoffed, sending me a pitying look. “Try harder.”

I waited until she was out the door before I started to curse, releasing all of my frustration into the universe so it didn’t eat away at me. I had enough of that already.

With a sigh, I headed up into the attic and got to cleaning. I don’t think anyone had been up there in decades because everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs filled every corner and I could only pray to Gleb that there were no spiders lurking in the dark corners, waiting to pounce.

A few hours passed and I was nearly done cleaning when I came across a shoe box. It was shoved into the corner, half hidden beneath an old dresser. As soon as my eyes fell on it, I felt this… overwhelming sadness wash over me and I just wanted to cry. My hands trembled as I reached for the box and it took me a minute to steel myself before I could finally open it.

Inside lay a bunch of photographs. The rubber band that had been holding them together had broken over time, leaving them scattered around the box. I picked up the first one – it was a picture of me at the park, enjoying an ice cream cone despite it being the dead of winter.

I chuckled. Even back then I loved the cold. Some things never change, I guess.

I picked up another photo – it was me and my mom mid-argument. Yeah, some things really never change.

I shook my head, reaching for the third photo – it was a young boy looking for frogs. My brow furrowed in confusion. Who is this? From that angle, I could only just see the side of his face, but that pond… it’s near my house. I used to hang out there when I was younger, talking to the frogs.

Reluctantly, I set the photo down and picked up another – it was me and the young boy, standing side by side with our arms around each other and smiles on our faces.

It hit me like a freight train. Dylan Crowley, the only kid that made an effort to befriend me. He was my best friend, my only friend. The memories came flooding back to me, bringing with them a wave of sadness and pain. I remember now… Dylan died just a couple days shy of his 12th birthday. He drowned in that pond because he jumped in to save me…

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I shakily set the photo down. There was one left and taped to it was a dried, light blue flower. The picture was the two of us again but, this time, he was giving me the flower.

My heart ached as I cried out in pain. How could I have forgotten the most important person in my life?

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