Question

I've been having problems with my memory for the past few months, from the simple thing of forgetting what clothes I had intended to wear to a special dinner, to the complex problem of not being able to remember simple words that are used in every day conversation like "shirt." The ability to communicate relies on a person to be able to come up with words in a conversation, and so not remembering what that thing you put on your body that has a head hole, two arm holes, and a bottom hole, to keep you warm and to help you look good is called is a real problem.

To help fight this encroaching menace, I started taking Ginkoba Memory a few days ago. Please insert the proper "But I keep forgetting to take it" joke here because it would be true, but thankfully I have Maria to help me combat this issue.

What I want to know is whether or not anyone reading this has any proof, one way or another, that Ginkoba does or does not help with memory. Sure, it could be a scam and I just gave the store $10 that I'll never see again, but if it's not a scan, and Ginko-Baloba really does help with memory? I'll be spending that money every month.

Let me know what you've experienced or seen experienced, please. I'd be really interested in knowing!

Fiction Is A Release

The door swung up faster than I expected, and I jumped back more out of a desire to not get smashed between the old oak frame of the door and the thick concrete of the wall than out of fear. Still, I had to admit, it was unnerving to realize that they were waiting for me, knowing that I was at the door in time to open it at my first soft knock.

"Come in," the quiet, almost familiar voice whispered, sounding amused. "Take your seat."

The shadows leapt about the room, caused by the flames dancing in the fire-pit. One old, Vicotrian-looking straight-backed chair sat in front of the fire, vaguely ominous but beautiful in its grace and style. I serruptitiously glanced at the shadows around me to see if I could recognize any faces that might be there, but that same voice hissed "Eyes to yourself, boy!"

The chair was more comfortable than I would have thought, and it seemed vaguely familiar, like the voice, but I couldn't place either. I stared into the fire as I thought was only right, and waited.

I didn't have long to wait before the music, primal drums and quiet voices uplifted in harmony, began. The fire seemed to flicker to the beat as the sibilant voice that had spoken before joined those lifted in song. Instead of harmony, however, this voice spoke.

"Five years we gave you, and for five years you have failed. You remembered nothing of us, of course, because we wanted you to grow without the knowledge. You remembered only that you had a mission, a purpose." The chanting, the harmony, and the drums grew louder. A censor was lit, the smell tickled my nose in an unpleasant manner. "If you were less than who you are now, we would destroy you for this insult, but" the voice paused and the chanting grew less, the drums beat slower, "we like you."

The beat broke slightly as I laughed. I think, when I dream back to this day, that I was supposed to be lulled into some kind of stupor, and yet here I was, laughing at this ridiculous assertation. "You like me?" I asked. "What do you do to the people you don't like, call them into a sewer instead of this dump, put them in a scene that's sure to give them nightmares for life, and not just nightmares for a year or so? You like me." I scoffed, sure while I was doing it that some of the voices were no longer just singing, but talking to each other in hushed tones, some sounding disappointed, and some sounding amused.

"Silence!" The raspy voice again, "You are not here to talk, you are here to understand. You were given five years, and failed. Now, we offer to you another option. Ten years we give to you. Do what it is you are tasked to do in those ten years, follow what is left of your heart after this, and you will be Accepted." I could hear the capital "A" in his inflection.

I remember now I started to speak again, but was cut off. The voices joined into a chorus of cacophany once again, echoing in a room too small for echoes, becoming something more than the simple tune they were, and finally spiralling through my spine.

I woke, cold, and alone on the cement floor. I know I was in a cellar by the damp smell, the dirt that can only collect in a room underground, and the quiet sound of a sump pump turning on somewhere near by. I found a sheltered staircase that led out into the light of day. Stumbling to get my bearings, I found my way home.

There was more that night, and I've regained this much from trying hard to delve into my mind. There's more that still hides in the shadows of my mind, darting behind one false memory to the next, quietly whispering "duty" to me. All I remember from the last part of this almost-dream is something that terrifies me, yet intrigues me. Something that calls to me, and makes my desire to become more than I am wrap me in the need to be active, the need to do.

All I remember, after that point, is Teeth.