Saga ~ Who I am ~ - Dear Diary Challenge 2007, COMPLETED 12/21

Title: Who I am
Author: MsLanna
Characters: Now that wuld be major spoilers at this time But not an OC this time.
Timeframe: 1 Year ABY
Notes: Written for the Dear Diary 07 Challenge
Cover Art to be found on page 4, because of spoilers...


Day 1

They say I will live.

They say it will take much more time than it already has, but I will live.
I cannot remember how long it has already taken.

They say, I should write this all down so I will remember.

They say, I might remember again - one day.
But they also say, I might forget what I know now then.

I don't know if they are right.
I don't know who they are.
They look at me with sad eyes, and I feel that I have seen them before. But I do not know.

I do not remember.

I don't know who I am, and neither do they.

A child has found me in a street, believing me dead. And I must have scared it terribly by opening my eyes. Now I am here and nobody is looking for me. They say, my finger prints and retina scans match none in the registers, not of Coruscant, not anywhere else. But neither is there a bounty on my head.

I am nobody.

And nobody is looking for me.

 

Looks intresting!

Do you mind PMing me with updates!

 

I love depressing mysteries like this.

Two thumbs WAY UP.

 

Certainly reads very well.

 

Ooo! Ooo! *waves hand around frantically* I know who it is!

Probably not.

I'm really looking forward to this as it goes on MsL!

 

I loved this, very mysterious. Great beginning Lanna and I?m looking forward to read more.

 

Thank you all for reading.
I hope I can keep up the mystery a bit longer without everybody finding out who he is too soon.

*gives c_a a stern look*
And no spoilers, right.



Day 2

I read the entry of yesterday.

I know I wrote it, but I can't remember. The longer I stare at the flimsy the more confused I get. I understand now, why they didn't give me a data pad. I recognize my handwriting.

I wrote - but I don't remember.

They said that would happen. I believe them now.
I will write everything down, even if reading it is creepy. I have already lost a month. But that does not mater much, I can't even remember.

They said, I needed a name and they are right. They have names and they wear them on little nameplates on their shirts. It is a good thing, because I cannot remember the names. I know I must have seen them before, they have told me their names many times. But I can't remember.

I closed my eyes to think about it, I tried to find anything that connected me to my past. In the thick fog that clouded my memory, little rung out, and even less that was a name. I was in the fog for a long time, almost like walking, trying out sounds.

My name is Lancer. For now. It sounds about right, especially when I think about free-lancers. It is not much of a clue, though, since you can do anything free lance. But I like the idea that I am my own boss, that I decide what to do. Because I should decide. I know what is right and what is wrong.

They ask me how I can know, but I cannot explain. It is like writing - when they put the pen in my hand, I knew how to do it. And I also know that it is important to know right from wrong. It is fundamental, essential -- without this knowledge, you are nothing.

Rape is wrong -- and so is slavery, theft, murder. This I know.

When I look into the mirror and see Lancer, his face is strange. I should recognize it, but something about it is wrong. The eyes, for example, big dark eyes with dark brows. I think they should be more slit-like and the brows belong closer to them. And the nose is much too short. My cheekbones do not protrude enough, my ears are too big and I cannot remember that sensual mouth at all.

Lancer looks back at me, and I know, we have very little in common. The body is one thing. I am well-muscled, not overly, but -- shaped. I go into the gym every day and work out. It is something to do and if I liked to be in shape before, well I certainly still liked it now.

But now, I like running best. I hold on to the rails of the conveyor with both hands and close my eyes. I can believe that I am running to forget for a while, I run and close my eyes and lose track of the world. When I open my eyes, I will walk back into my life, take up the daily routines, my family.

But, of course, I never do. When I open my eyes, I look at the monitor that displays any kind of landscape going by. I see the gym around me and I know that I have not run far enough to escape. I am covered with sweat, tired and still nobody.

I cannot run -- this I know.

 

A great diary! Please PM me with updates.

They ask me how I can know, but I cannot explain. It is like writing - when they put the pen in my hand, I knew how to do it. And I also know that it is important to know right from wrong. It is fundamental, essential -- without this knowledge, you are nothing.

Rape is wrong -- and so is slavery, theft, murder. This I know.

When I look into the mirror and see Lancer, his face is strange. I should recognize it, but something about it is wrong. The eyes, for example, big dark eyes with dark brows. I think they should be more slit-like and the brows belong closer to them. And the nose is much too short. My cheekbones do not protrude enough, my ears are too big and I cannot remember that sensual mouth at all.

I like your OC.

 

Cool!

 

My name is Lancer. For now. It sounds about right, especially when I think about free-lancers. It is not much of a clue, though, since you can do anything free lance. But I like the idea that I am my own boss, that I decide what to do. Because I should decide. I know what is right and what is wrong.

No not much at all...though I have my suspicions.

The way your OC has bouts with both amnesia, and basic self-knowledge is really well balanced!

(thank-you again for the sneak peek)

You know already, but a fabulous entry!


I understand now, why they didn't give me a data pad. I recognize my handwriting.
By the way, that's a great little tidbit to add in!

 

Very intense.

How tragic Lancer cannot remember himself or his life but at least the Empire is not looking for him - that's always a good thing.

Looking forward to more

 

Consider yourself added, VaderLVR. But this time, first time ever indeed, I do not write an OC. I put that in the header. But it might be AU, I have no idea what happened to him at that time. Of course, with this amnesia thing going on, I can pretty much make him everything I want.

A word of clarification, G__Anakin. (I hope) We all know common amnesia, buit somewhere I read about this special kind when you remember everything up until a certain day and then -- nothing. I think he was a soldier who still believed to be in his midtwenties, when he was already over fifty. I liked the concept, very interesting to dabble with.

Woah, c_a no spreading of the OC mistake. BTW, now you do know, don't you?
I had to add that, because I wondered why he should believe he has written anything on a pad. It did not make sense.

Well, KELIA the latter remains to be seen. But right now, I'd say he's pretty safe.


[u]Day 3[/u]

I cannot remember writing the two days before. I whack my head. I try to hammer the act in: "Every day I write. Everyday, I will write." [b]Remember![/b] Only tomorrow I will know if it worked.

They say, I should write down what I do in a day. But this isn't much, and it's boring. I get up at seven, I shower, and I shave. I shave my head, too. Somehow the short dark stubble is irritating me, so I cut it off. Breakfast is served at eight, I sit in the room with many other patients, I cannot remember any of them.

There is the lady that says she is my mother. There is a man who says he is a droideka. I know the word, how I know, I'm not sure. I know what a droideka is and he is not one. I laugh when he activates his shields or tries to roll off. There is a girl saying she is the Queen of Coruscant -- she also says she is a tea kettle. There is spyboy, who believes that at the Emperor himself is after him. He always carries broken electronics to monitor his Majesty's activities.

I wonder if I am the only one with a memory problem.

They say I am.
They say, they have no place for me to go, I have no money.
They are wrong.

[i]I have money, I am not a poor man. I have a ship -- this I know.[/i]

They showed me pictures of all kinds of ships, and I tell them mine is not among them. They exchange meaningful glances. They don't believe me. But I know I have a ship. I can't remember what it looks like, but I would recognize it, I'm sure.

After breakfast I have therapy, mostly finding out what I can do and what not.
I can write, read, calculate and know everyday objects and their uses. I know of many places, though I don't know if I have ever been there or not. When they show me blotches of ink, I see blotches of ink. I don't think my imagination is very good. But I know many species, I can tell a male Hutt from a female.

They are surprised.

What I don't know is current politics. This government is an Empire. When they showed me a picture of Lord Vader, who is second in command, I said: "He looks like me."

They exchanged more meaningful glances. They shook their heads.

But he did look like me, only his face is [i]different.[/i] I cannot explain it to them. They don't like to hear that I think my face is all wrong. I think, it worries them.

What I don't know is how do I link all this information, everything that I [i]do[/i] know together, and how it relates to me. I know many streets on Coruscant, but I cannot link them to anything I might have done. I knew what a flat looks like in general, but I don't know what mine was like. I knew various vocations, but I could not remember [i]my[/i] profession.

I pace around the park until lunch is served, and then I go spend time in the gym. Sometimes I have more talks with the doctors. I eat dinner, I write things down.

This is not enough. I must see and find all objects I know about. I must get to a computer terminal, I need more information. >

 

Very well done. You do an excellent job capturing what I imagine must be an enormously difficult state of mind. The character's drive to find out who he is carries the reader through the story with him. Just like him, I hunger for more information. It's a great hook, and I'm looking forward to following it.

 

Cool chapter

 

Even though I think I've figured it out, I still like the pacing...throwing clues here and there. Remember, you've got almost a year to fluxh him out.

When they showed me a picture of Lord Vader, who is second in command, I said: "He looks like me." That's what threw me off, but then I thought bout it and it made sense...

That and the fact he has a ship.

 

Superb update!

After breakfast I have therapy, mostly finding out what I can do and what not.
I can write, read, calculate and know everyday objects and their uses. I know of many places, though I don't know if I have ever been there or not. When they show me blotches of ink, I see blotches of ink. I don't think my imagination is very good. But I know many species, I can tell a male Hutt from a female.

They are surprised.

What I don't know is current politics. This government is an Empire. When they showed me a picture of Lord Vader, who is second in command, I said: "He looks like me."

They exchanged more meaningful glances. They shook their heads.

But he did look like me, only his face is different. I cannot explain it to them. They don't like to hear that I think my face is all wrong. I think, it worries them.

You're doing a great job of exploring his confusion and doubt.

Wonderful!

 

Thank you karebear. This is a lot of fun. I hope it stays that, too, until the end. I can see my readers run, when they find out who I'm writing.

Maybe I'll write an update with lots of ice and snow, just for you G__Anakin. *cool*


c_a or I'll call you spoilerboy until his identity is revealed.
I'm indeed scared to tip you off long before it's time. though I have to admit your first guess completely surprised me. thank the force it didn't spawn any plot-bunnies.

It is kind of difficult to make him very sure about some things and so ingnorant about others, VaderLVR. Especially, when those around him don't understand and/or believe him. It's rather difficult to find yourself in places you're not allowed to look.




Day 4

I looked at the journal and said, "I know this book. I have written in it."
I could not remember what or how often, though. But I can learn again. I can remember again.

They say, they cannot give me free access to a terminal; it would be against the rules. But I can use one when they are with me. I get an hour each day. But they have given me a small pad and I can borrow data cards from a small library. The data is old. The data is censored and filtered many times.

This data is useless -- this I know.

In one hour I cannot do much. I looked at Coruscant, but I know it, it is not my planet. I looked at Corellia, but neither is that my home. I looked at Naboo and Commenor. I listened to their languages, to their music. I looked at their famous faces. But nothing.

I am not of those planets. And the only face I recognized was Lord Vader. I think that this, too, worries them. I should remember the faces of holo-stars. I should recognize the voices of the known singers. I don't.

And if this is the speed with which I look through the galaxy, I could as well try to find a waste-bug on Coruscant. Well, a specific waste-bug. Finding one should not be a problem at all. I read from the library. There is a map of the galaxy on one wall. I can find Coruscant on it with ease. The same with places like Corellia, Nal Hutta. Tatooine, Kessel, Sluis Wan. I know this galaxy well. Maybe I have been an interstellar travel agent. The thought makes me laugh, I cannot imagine that at all.

But none of the names ring any special bells. Only the most important places are named, too, mostly in the Core. Probably, I come from an unimportant planet. But if I did, what was I doing here? No legal business, legal meant you were registered somewhere. I wasn't . This left too many unpleasant possibilities.

Why was I not registered? Or had somebody tampered with my files? How high in the hierarchy did you have to be, to delete a whole person? As high as the Emperor himself? Maybe I should just go and ask him. But now I was thinking like spyboy. That is bad.

I searched for a picture showing his face. There is none. He always wears a hood that hides his face. Maybe I should try that, too.

I drape a towel over my head in front of the mirror.
I still look all wrong.

 

I REALLY like this character. He's so REAL!

This data is useless -- this I know.

In one hour I cannot do much. I looked at Coruscant, but I know it, it is not my planet. I looked at Corellia, but neither is that my home. I looked at Naboo and Commenor. I listened to their languages, to their music. I looked at their famous faces. But nothing.

I am not of those planets. And the only face I recognized was Lord Vader. I think that this, too, worries them. I should remember the faces of holo-stars. I should recognize the voices of the known singers. I don't.

Can't wait for more!

 

Of, course, you already know that I think: It's Brilliant!!!

I've kind' wondered why "Lancer" has no id files on record my self ]

 

Thank you VaderLVR. Maybe it is the chance to build him up from scratch. I think even I will like him in the end.

From my beta and watchful eye of my faux-passes that is good news, c_a. And I hope I have found a credible solution to the lack of records.



[u]Day 5[/u]

I am confined to my room. A camera watches me. I wonder what they think this will achieve. It was just an impulse, and why should I of all people know that my fist is strong enough to break the mirror? It is.

Now it is bandaged. The bleeding has stopped, but it is still throbbing. I wonder if I am supposed to be in pain. I did not feel any. Of course, they had given me pills, painkillers, and I had pretended to take them. Those were not painkillers. They were tranquilizers. I will not take such pills unless they stuff them down my throat.

Let them try.

I asked, if I could at least have a pad and some data cards.
I could, but I could not concentrate very well. It was not because of the camera, it was my hand. It should not have been hurt. The shards should not have been able to cut me. I look at the bandaged hand.

I must ask them why I have no other bandages. They said, I was close to death, but there are no scars to prove it. I want to see my medical file.



They asked me about women.
I know about women, I did not understand their question.
They hoped, I might remember a specific woman - a woman I love. Love is a strong emotion; it might be easy to remember.

I lay back on the bed.
They asked me to describe the type of woman I would be interested in.
They are strange.
How do you describe intelligence, wit and devotion? What colour does courage have? Or loyalty?

I close my eyes.

She would have to be all that, and strong and weak, hard and gentle, mine and free. Everything else is secondary. Don't they know that few people marry their epitome of beauty?

I hope she misses me.
I hope she searches for me.
I hope, she exists.

[i]I would love her -- this I know.[/i]

[hr]

Thank you [b]correllian_ale[/b] for the beta. THAT would have been an embarrassing mix-up. [face_hugs]
>

 

Beautiful and heartbreaking!


I hope she misses me.
I hope she searches for me.
I hope, she exists.

I would love her -- this I know.

 

They said, I was close to death, but there are no scars to prove it. I want to see my medical file.

I'm lovin' the built in intrigue in the diary, a very nice twist.

They asked me about women.
I know about women, I did not understand their question.
They hoped, I might remember a specific woman - a woman I love. Love is a strong emotion; it might be easy to remember.

I lay back on the bed.
They asked me to describe the type of woman I would be interested in.
They are strange.
How do you describe intelligence, wit and devotion? What colour does courage have? Or loy-alty?

I close my eyes.

She would have to be all that, and strong and weak, hard and gentle, mine and free. Every-thing else is secondary. Don't they know that few people marry their epitome of beauty?

I hope she misses me.
I hope she searches for me.
I hope, she exists.

I would love her -- this I know.

It hits me in the gut the second time around, nice way to tug at me heart strings.

MsL!

 

Thank you VaderLVR. I just had to write that. Probably the last chance to get mush in it at all.

Intrigue, c_a? Then you are seeing more than me already. I just hope I can write up to those expectations?
I like him sad and desperate. And, of course, that part is wishful thinking to it's limits. Show me the man who thinks like that?.. *sigh*





[u]Day 6[/u]

I made a note and laid it on my memory. I asked for my file. I asked how I could be so unscathed when I was close to death.

They sigh. They nod.
They give me my file.
"Please try not to forget it again," they say.

My file is strange. Almost all my inner organs were ruptured, squashed or misplaced when I was found. It was as if a huge fist had squeezed me to death. Only that at one point the skin should break, shouldn't it? Something should have spilled. But it didn't.

I have been found almost naked. Socks and pants - that's all. And only the blood trickling out of my mouth and ears was any indication that something was wrong with me. Bruises and contusions had been found, but nothing to match my inner injuries. They kept me unconscious for six weeks so I could heal.

I wonder what can cause such injuries. Maybe an explosion? Or a high-level shock blaster? I do not know how I know such things. I must look up weapons. I must see, if I am any good with them.

I looked up for any explosions in the area I had been found in. There were many. Things seem to go boom on Coruscant all the time. I think there were even more explosions, many of them in the lower levels have most likely not been reported.

I read the article about the explosions, but not all are mentioned. People got killed, but nobody is listed missing. A whole storey exploded, a balcony broke off due to one explosion and killed a passer-by many levels below. A speeder crashed into a living quarter, a bank has been robbed, fire works had gone crazy, and a man killed himself and his family.

This does not work. If I want to remember, I must go to those places and feel them all over again. Reading will not do any good. I write down a list of places to visit. I have to believe that this will work.

I must believe.
>

 

I just want to give him a hug. But I don't want to squish him.

I read the article about the explosions, but not all are mentioned. People got killed, but nobody is listed missing. A whole storey exploded, a balcony broke off due to one explosion and killed a passer-by many levels below. A speeder crashed into a living quarter, a bank has been robbed, fire works had gone crazy, and a man killed himself and his family.

This does not work. If I want to remember I must go to those places and feel them all over again. Reading will not do any good. I write down a list of places to visit. I have believe that this will work.

I must believe

but

 

this is a real mystery. can't wait till the next post. i have an idea but not enough information, yet. hope you update soon.