The gallery was quiet, tucked away on a cobbled street in a seaside town two hours from Avina.
Sunlight filtered through tall windows, landing softly on the white walls and polished wooden floors. The scent of old paint, warm tea, and paper lingered in the air.
Rhiana stood in the center of the room, older now. Wiser. Her hair was longer. Her eyes more certain. In front of her was the final piece of the exhibit: The Girl Buried Twice—a mixed-media installation of sketches, words, and sound.
At its heart was Monica's voice, playing on a loop:
"If you're hearing this... he kept his word."
Surrounding it were Rhiana's drawings—willows, open boxes, hands reaching through soil, a girl in red turning to face the light.
A soft voice broke her reflection.
"She really lived, didn't she?"
Rhiana turned to see a young girl, no older than thirteen, standing beside her. Wide eyes. A notebook clutched tightly in one hand.
"She did," Rhiana said.
The girl nodded. "My teacher told us about her. About you."
Rhiana smiled gently. "You remember her name?"
"Monica Claire," the girl said proudly. "She was brave."
"She was more than that," Rhiana said. "She was real. And because of that, the rest of us get to be, too."
The girl hesitated. "Do you think she knows? That people care now?"
Rhiana looked at the light falling across the floor. She thought of the forest. The locket. The scream that had become a song.
"I think she knew the moment we stopped being afraid."
The girl smiled, then scribbled something in her notebook and ran to catch up with her family.
Rhiana stayed behind a little longer, listening.
And just before she left, she turned back to the recording.
And whispered:
"I carried you. But now, you can rest."
YOU ARE READING
Fossils of Memory
FantasySome memories are not your own-until they begin to haunt you. Rhiana Fosters has everything-a loving family, close friends, and a talent for painting. But when a recurring dream pulls her into a world she doesn't recognize, her perfect life begins t...
