The Memory Artist

Well, spoke with my doctor today. My side effects have not been bad, plus I haven't had to take the nasty Klonopin medication, woo! I think this really shows in the quality of today's story which I think is really good. I hope you all enjoy it! I change my dosage in a few days and I hope that goes well too, here's to hoping. Anyway, enjoy the story.

The Memory Artist

       The artist didn't care about her fashion and wore thin, comfortable clothes while she created her pieces of art. She could even sleep in these clothes comfortably, in fact it was regular habit for her to go straight from working to bed. She washed her hair, but hardly combed it, yet it stayed naturally straight. She would yawn when she wasn't tired and would smile whenever an idea crept into her head.

     She worked at a memory projector, a gift her father got her for her fifth birthday and had been working at it ever since even though better models had come along. The big metal box had a touch screen interface and projected an image onto a hologram on top.

      She pushed a few buttons and a classroom appeared in the hologram the professor still writing on the board. She erased the image of numbers and letters on the chalkboard and replaced it with a different memory, that of a wedding ceremony. But she filtered on top of that, like a screen door, the image of a funeral proceeding, with an open casket, with a little girl inside. The memory was on a warm spring day.

      She went to bed that night and had soft, wonderful dreams and awoke the next day, inspired to make another work.