An experience is either forgotten immediately, or never forgotten. Even when there are years between it, there is always something brought with you, and sometimes, even you don’t notice it. It’s always there, haunting you to your core, and you don’t notice until you break. Then nobody knows what will happen. You decide between the two choices, the two changes and chances to survive. You change your way of life. You change yourself. You discover things nobody has seen before.

That’s what happened to me. I stare into the distance not knowing what I’m looking at and not caring. The only thing that matters is that I escape. It’s getting to me. It’s the future. I can’t stop it. I don’t try, knowing that it’s no use. There was change again. I stopped running through the woods and sat down to write something. In case my village survives. In case someone, as curious as I am, reads it, so they know what I know. I hid the letter, and it told of all I knew, all I discovered. I hid it. I hid it somewhere only the curious ones can find it. This will be gone from eyes until that one person finds it. I know they are going to keep it a secret. That nothing goes wrong. I know of things nobody else does. I’ve seen things that others will gape at. I never dared to tell a soul, and I hope that the chosen one who finds it will not. There is something among us, good and bad, just like us humans, but so unlike all the same. I’ll leave the letter and run into the flames, the light of hope reflecting in my eyes. I looked back to the stream, and the fallen tree. I hope someone finds it far into the future. I hope that it won’t fall into the wrong hands. I took a deep breath and said a silent goodbye.

As soon as I turned around, I see them surrounding me. I was thrown into the flames with everyone else. I didn’t care that I was dying. I had hope. Someone will find it.

I will probably be just the far past to them.