The Community: A Project M Novel

The Community: A Project M Novel

1

Every thought, every memory, every feeling. My whole life. My first steps, my first laugh, my first love. Everything that makes us real. Everything that makes us human. Everything that made me who I was. What if I was wrong? What if it was all false?

I always thought my memory was better than others, cuz I could remember my earliest feelings. From the day I was born, to the last second I lived. I saw all, I felt all, I remembered all. I thought my memories could be attributed to a higher cognitive ability, something almost too good to be true. I was partly right. It was too good to be true. The memories weren’t mine. I figured that out the first time I killed a dog.

At least, I thought it was the first time. That’s what I originally felt. But the image of a pet curled up in a ball, tiny chest no longer moving, triggered something inside.

An earlier memory, from a time I was perhaps eight. A warmly lit room, myself and my companion lying beside a fireplace. I knew it was unfair to let him suffer any longer, so I steeled myself and tried to stab him through the heart.

Problem was, his fur was thicker than I anticipated, and it only increased his pain and suffering. I finally found that slashing the throat was the best solution. By that time however, my pet had suffered far more than necessary. I swore never to make the same mistake again.

But I just had. This time, I figured that the place to stab him was between the eyes, into the brain. But my knife wasn’t sharp enough, and the skull was too thick. My knife got stuck. I probably increased his pain tenfold, even worse than trying to stab through the heart. This time, my pet suffered until his brain ran out of oxygen. I was powerless to stop him from thrashing, much as I tried.

Instead, I sat there and watched until I couldn’t take it anymore. Well, that’s not completely true. I had the memory, I fell down, blacked out (from the memory or fall I wasn’t yet sure), I stood up, made myself presentable, then I left the room to throw up. When I came back, my dog was still, staring at me with big, glassy eyes.

This was the first time I had made a serious mistake. Not only that, but I had repetitively made a serious mistake. It didn’t make sense. Not only should my mind have remembered the first dog, but my body should have remembered the act of slashing its throat. Never before had I forgotten a memory.

Then again, never before had I gone against the council. They hadn’t known about this dog, and I had forgotten the last one. I wondered, if I did something they weren’t aware of again, would I remember something else? Something new? I decided it was too risky to disobey them again.

And then I went to see Travis.

That’s where my problems began.

About The Author

The Community: A Project M Novel #2

The Community: A Project M Novel #2

1

Every thought, every memory, every feeling. My whole life. My first steps, my first laugh, my first love. Everything that makes us real. Everything that makes us human. Everything that made me who I was. What if I was wrong? What if it was all false?

I always thought my memory was better than others, cuz I could remember my earliest feelings. From the day I was born, to the last second I lived. I saw all, I felt all, I remembered all. I thought my memories could be attributed to a higher cognitive ability, something almost too good to be true. I was partly right. It was too good to be true. The memories weren’t mine. I figured that out the first time I killed a dog.

At least, I thought it was the first time. That’s what I originally felt. But the image of a pet curled up in a ball, tiny chest no longer moving, triggered something inside.

An earlier memory, from a time I was perhaps eight. A warmly lit room, myself and my companion lying beside a fireplace. I knew it was unfair to let him suffer any longer, so I steeled myself and tried to stab him through the heart.

Problem was, his fur was thicker than I anticipated, and it only increased his pain and suffering. I finally found that slashing the throat was the best solution. By that time however, my pet had suffered far more than necessary. I swore never to make the same mistake again.

But I just had. This time, I figured that the place to stab him was between the eyes, into the brain. But my knife wasn’t sharp enough, and the skull was too thick. My knife got stuck. I probably increased his pain tenfold, even worse than trying to stab through the heart. This time, my pet suffered until his brain ran out of oxygen. I was powerless to stop him from thrashing, much as I tried.

Instead, I sat there and watched until I couldn’t take it anymore. Well, that’s not completely true. I had the memory, I fell down, blacked out (from the memory or fall I wasn’t yet sure), I stood up, made myself presentable, then I left the room to throw up. When I came back, my dog was still, staring at me with big, glassy eyes.

This was the first time I had made a serious mistake. Not only that, but I had repetitively made a serious mistake. It didn’t make sense. Not only should my mind have remembered the first dog, but my body should have remembered the act of slashing its throat. Never before had I forgotten a memory.

Then again, never before had I gone against the council. They hadn’t known about this dog, and I had forgotten the last one. I wondered, if I did something they weren’t aware of again, would I remember something else? Something new? I decided it was too risky to disobey them again.

And then I went to see Travis.

That’s where my problems began.

About The Author

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