Velasca

An Early Morning Storm

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 00:41:39 GMT

"Turn around and leave. Forget what you know."

The voice is cold and hard, unlike the usually smooth voice I'm used to hearing.

"No." My own voice sounds shaky. "This is wrong..."

"It's just business."

"Illegal business!"

"Don't you lecture me Velasca!"

Thunder claps.

A flash of lightning reveals his face, usually so calm and caring, now matching his voice, hard and cold.

BOOM!

I jerk into a sitting position on my bed, the loud thunderous booms outside, bringing me out of an uneasy sleep.

I glance out the window, to see a flash of lightning. A storm has started.

And the same one has been brewing silently inside me for a while now.

I've been having these dreams for a while now.

But until now, I haven't seen the face behind the cold voice.

Familiarity runs through me as the face pops up again in my mind, but then so does a headache. Another clap of thunder, less thunderous than the last one, and then I hear the drippings of the rain. You wouldn't think this would be morning, considering how dark it is out there, but it is.

It's supposed to be sunny during the day, but right now the weather is matching my mood.

I need to figure out what these dreams are referring to, what the flashes of light that usually accompany them mean. If they're the reason why I woke up in England, with no memory, just my wand and a few changes of clothing.

I know my name.

My first name at least.

But I need to know more.

And these dreams aren't enough.

Restless Thoughts

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 01:45:22 GMT

I know he said that he had his own system and didn't need help.

But the organizational side to me couldn't help but do it.

George is currently out, shop closed for the day. Before I went upstairs, I stopped in his office and opened his ledgers and books back up. Everything I apparently learned in that business course I took in the Muggle college came rushing back to the forefront.

Within an hour, I got the accounts for the past six months straightened out.

The ledgers for the past year making sense.

I left his other things alone.

I started working on this month's accounts, then stopped as I noticed the time.

I don't know why I'm doing this. Maybe I want to make myself more useful. I'm getting better working the front, but it's not like something I'll ever be comfortable doing. Plus from the numbers, the amount of money George has raked in this place, he could afford to hire at least three more people.

And if he realized that, he might not need me.

Which is kind of unsettling, since right now considering everything I need some sort of stability. And I hate to lose it.

I haven't had anymore breakthroughs since remembering my first name. Other than magic coming back to me easily as well. I've started reading up on the subject of amnesia.

I'm halfway afraid that I'll never recover my memories. That my life started over when I woke up in the Leaky Cauldron. Every book says it takes time. It could be a day, a week, a month, maybe even years. Sometimes, never.

Never knowing who I really was.

It's terrifying.

I hope it doesn't come to that.

I sigh. My thoughts are not helping. I set everything back the way he's used to and then close up his office and make my way up to the flat.

I make my way over to the small bookcase and take out a book. Fantasy. Lord Of The Rings.

Need something to put my restless thoughts at bay.

And Frodo's situation kind of helps.

Inventions, Interrupted.

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 05:31:41 GMT

"Miss?"

I look up from the counter. "Yes?"

"We can't find the Squish and Puffs."

I frown. Oh those. Delightful thing they are. I wound up taking a shower last time I handled them. "They were moved to another aisle. Third one."

The teen witch grins. "Thanks!"

"Excuse me?"

I look to see another witch. Younger.

"Are there any more Pygmy Puffs?"

I shake my head. "We're getting a new shipment tomorrow, though."

"Okay, I'll make sure to come in tomorrow."

I handle the next few requests easily enough. I'm getting more and more comfortable working here. I think it's because I at least know my first name.

Velasca.

Now if I can only learn everything else. I'm learning I'm not that patient.

As the day goes by, and the customers are less and less, I finally look up at the clock. Almost time to close. Should see if George is all right. He's been locked in his office all day.

I wait until the last couple customers leave, and then I make my way into the back. There are a couple items that need to be stocked for tomorrow. I knock on the door. "George?" And start to open it.

"NO! Don't--"

CRACK!

Frowning, I open the door.

And stop dead in my tracks.

Oh... my... Merlin...

I clap a hand over my mouth.

I try not to laugh.

But it is kind of funny.

I feel my mouth twitch as George Weasley stares back at me. All I had done was notice a couple items out of stock and came back to his office to tell him, and ask where they were (I had been working here long enough to know where most of it is, but these two items I didn't) so I could restock...

And now he's covered in feathers, green spray, and something else...

All I did was open the door.

Late Night Dreams

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 19:00:56 GMT

Rain pounding against the glass.

Lighting flashing.

Anger. Rage. Protests being made.

Lights flickering. Books on a table.

"I can't believe you've been doing this!"

"Shut up! This isn't your business!"

"Like bloody hell it isn't! You've put my reputation on the line too! How could you?!"

"You're going to keep your mouth shut!"

"Don't you tell me what I'm going to be quiet about! I'm going to let everyone know the truth!"

A flash of blue light.

A return flash of yellow light.

I jerk awake, sitting up right in the bed. I hear a crash outside my room, and then a flash of lightning. It's storming out right now.

What the hell was that?

Two voices... one that sounded like mine... the other I don't recognize. I frown as I try to push to remember it, and the pounding in my head goes from slight to annoying. I back off from it and the ache ceases.

I slip out of the bed and make my way into the small kitchen. The flat that George Weasley is kindly letting me live in is small, but efficient. I don't care about the size really, just glad to be somewhere.

I open the icebox and take out the pitcher of juice, and then open the cupboard and take out a glass. As I pour myself a drink, I reflect on the past couple weeks.

I don't mind working at his store. It gets my mind off things and keeps me busy. I know it's not something I normally do...in fact I definitely know it's not. My hands feel more comfortable holding books, like the ones I found stashed in the bedroom. But at the moment I don't care. Beggars can't be choosers.

I sit down, sipping from my glass and I try to figure out what that dream meant. But the second I start to delve into it, the headache returns. I suppose I'm not ready.

One of these days however, I won't care how bad the headaches will be. I will find out.

Starting Work...

Sat, 24 May 2008 15:52:59 GMT

George Weasley (Where have I heard that name before... oh this whole thing is getting bothersome and annoying now instead of terrifying) didn't have me start working at his shop right off the mark. For a couple days he showed me around, and informed me how to operate in here. Because I didn't have the Galleons right off, he let me stay in the small flat above his shop.

I'm a little surprised by how willing he was to take on a witch with no memory. I have a feeling I wouldn't be that willing.

Everything in Diagon Alley feels familiar... but every time I try to think about, I get this nagging headache. I take it as a sign that my brain doesn't want to remember.

But I WANT too.

Amnesia is downright cumbersome.

And now I've started working in his joke shop. Only a few have come in, and I've been stocking his shelves. I don't mind the stocking. And it comes easily to me on how I need to handle most of the items here. Carefully... and gently, as if I've had practice with something like that before....

Two Days Now....

Mon, 12 May 2008 13:18:05 GMT

I stop at the door that leads to the hallway outside this room. I turn around and start walking again, till I stop at the window.

Then I turn back around and head back towards the door.

Pacing.

It's what I've been doing. In here. Safe in a way.

Two days.

It's been two days since I woke up.

Blank.

Empty.

Nothing.

I know nothing!

Well... not nothing.

I know I'm a witch. And that somehow I went from Paris to London. And that I'm in a place called The Leaky Cauldron.

I found a bag in a corner of the room yesterday. It has a few spare changes of clothing and a money pouch.

I thought it would be empty.

Which meant I would have been out on the street today...

But thankfully I had enough to pay to stay for two more nights

But that's it.

That's it.

I take a deep breath. I have to think. I have to figure this out. For some reason I feel the need for parchment and a quill. To make a list. Something about lists to me seem important.

Well another little fact.

But I need to stop with these little facts! I have to find out WHO I AM. I need to. Every time I try to think, a wallop of a headache starts.

If I could, I would try to think past though headaches.

Because I need to get a handle.

Before I'm chucked out onto the street.

With no memory.

No money.

No way of finding out...

I stop, turn around and lean against the door, sliding down slowly till I end up sitting on the floor.

I need help.

Waking Up Completely Blank

Sat, 10 May 2008 00:31:52 GMT

I open my eyes and wince.

My head hurts.

Perhaps there's a potion nearby to take care of it.

I open my eyes back up and notice that I am in an odd bed. Not my bed... well I think it's my bed. Is it? I frown at the question. I should know if I am in my bed... shouldn't I?

All this makes my head start to pound so I shove aside the baffling thoughts and I sit up and look around.

Where am I? This is not my room.

I get up and my legs feel shaky. I walk the length of the room and look out the window.

Where is this place? Where am I?

The last place I was....

Wait. Where was the last place I was?

Paris. Right. Paris. This isn't Paris. Could it?

The question makes my head pound once more. I need something to drink. Water. I look around the room and notice a pitcher of water and a couple glasses on a stand next to a floor length mirror. I walk across the room, over to the water and pour myself a glass. As I drink I look into the mirror.

And I don't recognize what I see.

A woman...I frown. Something else... witch?

Witch. You have a wand....

I have a wand... where? I look around and spot something that must be a wand next to the water pitcher. All right. I turn back to the mirror.

And once more recognize absolutely nothing.

I don't recognize the face I see. The eyes, the hair. The clothes... my feet are bare.

I start as I hear a knock on the door. "Housekeeping!" I hear as they enter. "Oh, sorry Miss--" She trails off, the women obviously not knowing my name.

My name. What is my name?

I don't know my name. I don't recognize what I saw in the mirror. I mean it's me... but I don't know...

"Miss? Do you need any cleaning up in here?"

Unable to bring myself to answer, I shake my head.

"All right then." She starts to close the door and I feel a panic rise up in me.

"Wait!"

She pauses.

I take a couple steps forward. "Could you happen to tell me where I am?"

The housekeeper gives me an odd look. "The Leaky Cauldron, Miss."

Nothing. Blank. Does not ring any bells. "And whereabouts is the Leaky Cauldron?"

She frowns now. "Miss, you're in London, England. Are you all right?"

No. I am not all right. I recognize London, I know that I'm a witch and what a wand is, but I know nothing else. This is not right!

"Uh... could you direct me to the manager?"

"Best not leave until you put your shoes on. I'm still cleaning up, ya know."

Shoes. I look down and notice I'm barefoot. But where are my shoes? I look around the room quickly and spot a pair near the bed. I hurry over and slip them on. Before I leave, I glance at my wand.

Might need that.

I grab it and turn to the housekeeper, stepping out and closing the door. "Manager?"

"Down the hall, turn right, you'll come to a set of staircases. Go down, take two rights and you'll find the him." She gives me the directions slowly as if speaking to someone who's muddled in the head.

You might as well be.

I don't argue with that thought, and follow her directions. Soon enough I'm where she directed. An older gentleman is standing behind the counter, looking a bit weary and rough.

"Ex-" I start out, stop. I swallow nervously. "Excuse me...?"

He turns to me. "Oh hello Miss. Feeling better? The gentleman that brought you in said you might be out of sorts when you woke up."

I stare at him, feeling out of sorts. More than out of sorts. Bloody confused. Bloody? Okay... so I must have spent time here in England before.... "Um... I know this is going to sound quite strange, but did the gentleman that got me that room... did he say anything?"

The man frowns. "No, ma'am. Just said that you weren't feeling very well and needed a place to sleep."

"Did he give a name at least?"

"His name? No."

I close my eyes, the throbbing in my head starting to get louder. I bite the bullet. "What about mine?"

"Beg your pardon Miss?"

"My name," I repeat in a whisper. "I can't--"

"All I got Miss for a sign in was V. K."

I open my eyes. "V.K?"

He nods. "Yes. That's it." He frowns. "He paid for your room. You have two more days of room and board here, which means meals. You may want to rest up some more. I'm sure whatever happened will pass with some good sleep."

You think not knowing my name, who I am exactly other than a witch that somehow is in London England, and nothing else will just be solved by sleep? Sleep?

I don't say what I'm thinking. If one needs to be hysterical, one does it privately. An audience will not do.

"Thank you," I say politely, holding back the urge to panic until I get back to my room.

"Your welcome Miss."

I turn away and walk back upstairs. Everything feels longer... A second feels like a minute. By the time I finally get back to my room, I run to my bed and curl up in it, feeling a tightness in my chest.

I don't know who I am.

Oh Merlin.

I don't know WHO I am.

I gasp for breath.

I DON'T know WHO I am.

This can't be happening.

I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM!