Elsewhere
Throughout the far from uneventful weeks, Rosemary had been growing closer and closer to something that she couldn’t describe. It was what her father called… Elsewhere. It permeated her thoughts; she could think of nothing else. Rosemary was well aware that if she asked how she could get there, The Receiver of Memory would shake his weary head and say the same words over and over, “It’s best if you do not know.” He was hiding something, something sinister. Rosemary could not understand why it was so horrible. The Receiver of Memory was allowed to ask anything right? Shouldn’t she be able to find a way to get herself to Elsewhere? Rosemary was determined to find out.
There were many years of training ahead of her. Ever since the week she felt pain, Rosemary was aware of what the Community had put behind. Colors. Music. Love. Warmth. She was doused and inflicted with all sorts of beautiful things that frightened her. Most of all was the pain. She had scraped her knee several times, fallen off her bike every once in a while, but they were nothing compared to this. Deep sorrow and head wrenching feelings made the very inner part of her soul tremble. What frustrated her was that she couldn’t reach it. This Elsewhere, where feelings surrounded everyone; was it real?

Two weeks later, Rosemary was sitting in the red velvet chair, numb with shock; the chair she had so loved to stroke. She was holding a tape in her hands, and let it fall. A tear sparkled briefly on her cheek and dropped onto the fallen tape, blurring the words: RELEASE NO. 3092917308510.
Throughout the next few weeks, Rosemary hid what she had done to herself. She was empowered to lie, wasn’t she? The Receiver suspected nothing at first, then saw some small changes. Instead of the laughing, optimistic youth she had been just several weeks before, Rosemary was always frowning. She seemed to age 100 years every day. Instead of ecstatically anticipating the memories, she would always look like she would cry. The Receiver thought that she was burdened of his giving memories. And Rosemary could not tell the Receiver about what happened, or else she might get released for stealing the tape from the record room. Now that she knew what it was, what seemed like the only passageway to Elsewhere was actually a hole straight down to Death. And every day, the Receiver would weep because he was hurting the child.
The day came when Rosemary could not bear it anymore. She was a liar, a thief, a hypocrite, and a burden to her family. Didn’t her innocent father and mother deserve a happy, smiling Rosemary? Didn’t they all? She knew that no matter what kind of solace she received, her days of laughter were over. May be, if they all forgot her, it would make their lives easier. That day, Rosemary received her most painful memory of all, and she didn’t even notice the pain. She was aware of what she had to do. She would confess, and request for Release.
And so she got up, and kissed the Receiver’s cheek. She was so devastated and distant, she forgot the crucial part of her plan.

Rosemary forgot to tell The Receiver why she went away.



The masked woman brought the syringe to Rosemary. She told Rosemary to hold her arm out and rubbed the place of injection with alcohol. Rosemary stopped her and took the needle from her. She took a deep breath, then pushed.
Strangely, it didn’t hurt. Rosemary simply felt a fizzy, numbing sensation spread from her arms, throughout her whole entire body. Blood rushed to her head and she felt dizzy. In her hazy mind, Rosemary said good bye to her family. Her gentle, quiet mother, her wise and loving father, and sweet little Jeremy, her dear little brother who would snuggle up against her while she did her school lessons.
She started to sway. Was Elsewhere really there? Was there a place beyond the protection of the community? Were there feelings there? And love? And family?
She fell on her knees to the floor, shaking all over. Sweat drenched her body, and her blond hair clung to her neck. The color yellow. Rosemary was frightened. Suddenly, she couldn’t move her right arm or her neck; and she had a glimpse of Jeremy in a field full of flowers and their delicate scent. All her beloved school friends, Joshua, Jonathan, Mae, Ella, Anna, were there too. This world, this world is what they truly deserve. Not a colorless, metallic prison. Was this Elsewhere? And she had other visions too. Playing that fun little game with Joshua and Mae, what was it called? Monopoly. Swinging on a tree swing set. Reading from a book about love and mystery. Sailing on a massive ship… oh yes, a cruise! Making snow angels with Ella. Raking leaves full of vibrant colors. Drawing. Sledding. Undressing Jeremy from his little yellow rain slicker. Hugging Jeremy with love. Giving a kitten some milk with love. Love. What she wanted most.
Rosemary had planned to be released in a cold attitude, without any emotion. But she couldn’t help it; She wept. Both of her legs were paralyzed, and one eye was not opening. She felt her spirit fluttering, leaving her mangled body, like her favorite animal, the butterfly. Free. She was flying away, slowly detaching herself from this earth. Rosemary didn’t hate the community anymore. They knew nothing. THEY KNOW NOTHING! How unfair! All the feelings she have, she was the only one to bear anger, remorse, grief, sadness. She couldn’t share anything. They would never know about the color orange, like the sunset on what was called the Appalachian Mountains. They would never know a loyal dog, who would follow you at your heels, they would never know the magic of the holidays…
Rosemary’s back and arms started shaking as they too, lost feeling. She fell forward, sweating, trembling like a fragile aspen leaf in the wind…
And she suddenly felt a great joy, like the call of a bugle, rising and sweeping her spirit up in its great wings, and she saw the community, she saw all the colors, she saw the children at play, she saw the tawny black horse she had ridden, she saw happiness, she saw change, and she saw love.
Rosemary was almost unconscious, her petite frame convulsing, twisting. She threw up blood and bile, and laughed, her laugh turning into a cough, and her cough turning into a raspy breath that rattled her body. “I love you… Whoever loves me too, whether in this community… cough… o-or e-elsewhere…Father… it’s not… your fault...”
If the Receiver of Memory had not turned away from the screen and shut it off, he would have heard it. He would have been able to tell her he loved her… But although he did not say it, Rosemary might have heard.

Perhaps she could have left knowing someone loved her.