I guess that this is kind of a happy ending. If you think about it, I escaped. I ended up safe. Jessie never got her money. But people out there were still in danger, because of those criminals. In real life, nothing ever ends truly happily.
I had to be introduced to my parents at first. It was awkward, living with people who felt like random strangers. But eventually, I regained my memory. They became my parents.
This wasn’t a love story. It wasn’t an amazing piece of literary genius. But I guess it was ok. For a story.
I’m glad that you know my story now. The press has been hounding me day and night for it, so I decided it would be easier to just write. And I have. I’ve written and written, over ten thousand words. It’s been hard at times, reminding me of the horrible things that I’ve been through, but I’m fine now.
Even after all I’ve been through, I’m still fascinated by the moon. And today, as I finish writing this, and look up at the sky, I experience a strange moment of deja vu. I look up at the sky. The stars twinkle down at me, shining like bright, clear gems. The moon is cloudy. Swirling grey mist shrouds its rocky surface. I know that it’s really dotted with massive gaping holes and towering mountains, not grey, foggy clouds, but I like to pretend. The moon is a mystery. No one REALLY knows what happens there. Sure, people have visited it. Sure, scientists have studied it. But what of that, if even scientific proof was made up by people? People who could imagine. People who could create. People who could lie.
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.
I knew firsthand about people lying, particularly about the moon. But I was still fascinated nonetheless.
People could lie, but I would never lose faith.