Chapter 2: You're No Longer Me
1288 Words
— A shadow from childhood knocks. Who will open the door?
Ellie stood still, the lantern in her hand burning quietly.
The flame no longer flickered, yet it refused to die out—like the last memory left in the dark.
The girl wore a white cotton dress, like someone who had stepped out of an old, faded photograph.
Her steps were light; her gaze landed not on the present, but somewhere buried deep in memory.
She drew closer and stopped right in front of her.
No sudden movements. Just a quiet gaze, a soft smile, and a voice as gentle as wind:
"You came back."
Ellie instinctively took half a step back, hardly believing what she saw.
"You're…" Her voice trembled.
That face—it was her own, from long ago.
The girl kept smiling, as if playing a game Ellie had long forgotten.
"I'm Lulu."
Ellie stood frozen.
Not with fear, but with something deeper—like the world had paused around her.
A chill crept up her spine, but it wasn't just cold.
It carried warmth too—achingly familiar.
Like sunlight breaking through after a spring rain, resting gently on damp skin.
She whispered,
"Are you… who I was as a child?"
And in that moment, the world around her seemed to tremble—just slightly.
She thought she heard someone calling her.
Not by her name now—
But by a name long buried in dust,
Whispered gently in the dim light:
"Lulu… come home."
The voice was soft, yet filled with a deep sorrow,
As if someone had used up a lifetime of strength just to speak that name once more.
In a haze, she found herself back in that small, damp but warm house.
Wind chimes hung in the corner, and under the eaves, rows of dried dandelions swayed.
Inside, it was quiet. Just like before.
On the wicker chair sat Grandma, her hair snow-white, her eyes a little cloudy—but still filled with that familiar kindness.
She said gently, "Lulu, the lantern's gone out. Go light it again."
Ellie—no, Lulu—ran over at once.
She knelt in the corner and carefully lit the red lantern.
It was old, the paper wrinkled, but once the flame came to life, it seemed to breathe again.
The lantern lit up the whole room.
On the wall were her childhood drawings—sunshine, trees, and a crooked little cat, all done in crayon.
Beside them were Grandma's red paper cuttings, edges slightly curled, but still hanging in place.
In the corner sat her little red cloth shoes, speckled with mud, as if she'd just come in from playing.
On the windowsill, the one-legged stuffed doll still lay there, quiet and loyal like a small dog.
On the table was a thick diary, its cover torn at the corners.
She opened it carefully—
On the first page, in clumsy handwriting:
"My name is Lulu. I'm six. I love drawing and Grandma's scented sachets."
She smiled, couldn't help it, and kept turning the pages.
Page after page, it was all there—
The dream of flying horses;
The nights she hid in Grandma's arms when afraid of the dark.
And that favorite piece of candy she could never bring herself to eat.
Until the final page—
The handwriting was neat. And unfamiliar:
"Lulu is gone. Ellie lived on."
Her fingers trembling slightly on the page.
Was it the cold—or something else?
Outside, the wind stirred the doorway curtain, brushing it with a soft rustle.
Grandma spoke again, her voice lower now:
"Remember, as long as the lantern stays lit, no one can hurt you."
"But one day, you'll forget who you are."
"When that happens, it'll come… to take you home."
Lulu blinked. Whispered, "Take who?"
Grandma smiled, gently stroked her head the way she used to—
But this time, her eyes shimmered with something wet:
"You."
—
That moment, the whole village fell silent—
No birdsong, no wind.
Even the tree shadows seemed frozen in sunlight.
Ellie felt a sudden tightness in her chest—
Not like something holding her, but as if something inside had been yanked away.
Her vision washed pale, as if the whole world had been covered by a thin veil.
Lulu stepped forward through the hush.
A strand of morning light touched her messy hair.
She looked at Ellie quietly, her voice barely more than a sigh:
"You forgot me."
Ellie lowered her head, throat caught tight. "I'm sorry."
The girl shook her head, calm and kind.
"It's not your fault… you just grew up."
She reached out, fingers brushing against Ellie's.
A warmth passed through her touch—a pulse, a memory.
"But now—
Will you remember me again?"
Her voice was soft as dandelion fluff carried by a child's breath.
Memories rushed in—bubbles in the courtyard, sticky fingers clutching candy, the weight of a storybook in small hands.
She opened her mouth to speak.
But no sound came out.
"Come on, let's play."
Lulu smiled and tugged Ellie's hand, just like those countless mornings bathed in the glow of dawn. They ran together toward the familiar swing set, the dewy grass beneath their feet sparkling with each light step.
The sunlight slanted across the field, stretching their shadows long and slender. One big, one small—trailing behind them in the sand, two pairs of uneven footprints.
Ellie glanced down at those marks.
Her eyes stung with something between joy and grief.
The feeling—so vivid, yet distant—was like brushing against the edge of a forgotten world.
She settled onto the swing and gently pushed off.
The breeze caught her, lifting her higher.
For a moment, she was a child again.
They played hopscotch.
They played hide-and-seek.
They blew soap bubbles that caught the light and shimmered l.
Lulu ran and twirled, laughing like a dandelion seed on the wind—light, free.
Ellie' smile slowly bloomed.
She forgot who she was.
Forgot the weight of growing up.
Forgot all the sorrow she'd never found words for.
But by midday, as the sunlight turned hot and heavy, the playground fell still.
A faint unease drifted through the golden air.
"Lulu…" Ellie called softly. "Have I… not been here in a very long time?"
Lulu stopped and turned. Her eyes were gentle, but a quiet sorrow lingered within them.
"You've been gone too long. Grown-ups… always forget this place."
There was a pause before Ellie murmured:
"But I remember you."
"No," Lulu whispered, "You don't remember me. You just… haven't let go."
Ellie froze—the words dropped like a stone into her heart, sending out waves of cold.
The world around her shifted—slowly at first, then all at once.
Warm memories—the laughter, the running, the fairytales, the candy—blurred and dimmed, like scenes behind fogged glass.
The swing creaked, shedding silent tears.
Soap bubbles burst midair, drifting down as black feathers.
Lulu's figure thinned, as if the wind were quietly erasing her.
"What's happening…" Ellie tried to step back—but her feet were caught in soft, sinking earth.
"You wanted to come back too badly," Lulu's voice came from somewhere far—soft, but fading.
"But this... this isn't your place anymore."
"No! I just wanted to—"
"Start over?" Lulu interrupted.
"You can't go back, Ellie."
And with that, the world bleached away—
as if the sun had burned through an old photograph.
"Lulu!” Ellie cried, her voice cracking. "Don't go!"
Then came a voice—
distant as a bell tolling at the edge of a dream:
"You are no longer me."
- Writer
