Rewriting the Script of Destiny

"Like many other terms associated with the mind, lethologic is a modern word derived from Greek (from lethe, forgetfulness, and logos, language). It is something that most of us experience; the usually simple process of verbalizing a phrase that, somehow, gets stuck due to an annoying mental block" - Mark Gwynn, BBC Future, 2016.

Synopsis

There is a thin line between the surreal and the strange. Imagine having it all; your own house, a loving family, a fiancée, and your best friend supporting you. Imagine being fortunate, despite being unable to say what you truly feel.

Think about what it's like to have everything and then lose it.

Eron Montjoy wakes up one morning without any of it. What he doesn't know is that he has the opportunity to get it all back. He can travel between two alternate worlds, but he loses the memories each time he crosses the barrier of reality.

At some point during these travels, he starts having flashbacks of his other life in the other world, and he must find a way to stay in the better one without losing more in the process.

**Prologue

**

World II.

I have been rushing around all day. There are always details to be fine-tuned at important moments. Plus, it is quite common to notice mistakes when you can no longer do anything about them because you are in the moment of the presentation. That is happening to me now, when I see a blue flower in the middle of the white flowers in the bouquet to my right. They thought I wouldn't notice!

Oh my God. I sound like my sister. I didn't expect to be in charge of this moment, but I have been planning everything for months and I don't want anything to go wrong. That blue flower gives me a bad feeling. It shouldn't be there! And, the orchestra still hasn't finished tuning their instruments. At this hour! It seems like few people here understand the value of punctuality.

According to my wristwatch, it is seven thirty-two in the afternoon. I don't know how I managed to read the time, because my hands have been shaking for the past thirty minutes. I look at the door of this venue with fear and anticipation. I feel like every second is slower than the previous one. Why do I get like this?

"Eron, weren't you supposed to feel nervous on your wedding day?" Faven whispers in my ear. "You look like jelly, friend."

Sometimes I want to kick him. Right now, I don't care that he is my best friend, or even less so. A very internal part of me knows that he is just trying to make me laugh to dissipate the nerves, but anything he says at this moment can be taken against him.

"Wasn't it supposed to be at seven thirty? She is late," I reply as quietly as I can.

"Maybe she changed her mind because the idea of seeing your blonde face for the rest of her life seemed unbearable to her. She probably hopped on the first flight to New York in less than two minutes," he jokes. This time I lightly hit his arm. "Ouch. Remember that your entire family and guests are watching us. I'm on your side, I'm not your enemy! She is only two minutes late. Relax."

At this moment, I am about to respond to him, but my words don't leave my throat because anything I had to say was carried away by the wind caused by the grand church doors being opened. And if I come up with something to say to Faven, the sound of that strange mix of Vivaldi and Taylor Swift's Enchanted silences all my thoughts.

And there she appears, radiant, beautiful, and any other adjective that does her justice. Oh, goodness. When did I become this cheesy mess? Now, as if I were part of a movie, my heart starts beating fast, so much so that I can hear it clearly. She smiles, and I am a helpless being about to melt on this very floor.

"And we have lost Eron Montjoy, ladies and gentlemen," my friend exclaims jokingly. The people in the church laugh, but I only have eyes for the person approaching me.

Her mother, in the front row, stands up to take photos of her, even though we hired several photographers for the ceremony. My fiancée also laughs when Faven makes another joke that I couldn't understand. My own mother gets up to record the grand entrance, and it's something I appreciate. I feel like this is a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life.

She enters with that huge princess dress that I never knew she would choose. She didn't let me see the dress before today, and I don't think I would have guessed her choice. It throws me off not having guessed it, but it makes me happy to know that she gives herself the chance to dream as she walks towards the altar to unite our lives. She tied up her hair because, here I can guess, she wanted to show the world that her face no longer represented insecurity and, on the contrary, it blossomed and became more and more beautiful over the years. I know that insecurity never kept her awake at night, but I'm not so foolish as to not realize that she used her long hair, today with light and dark highlights, to subtly cover her face.

It consoles me a bit to see her face blush when her eyes meet mine. It means that I am not the only bundle of nerves between the two of us. I give myself the chance to smile then. As her steps get closer to reach me at the altar, and her father cries, I also allow a few tears to fall. I didn't know I had the capacity to be so sensitive, but here I am like a little child who gets everything he ever wanted in life.

You are definitely the love of my life, I want to tell her once she is in front of me. But I can't find a way to do it. She takes care of wiping away the traces of tears from my face, and I can assure you that I have never felt so vulnerable as I do now.

Well, we will have a lifetime to say whatever we want to each other. There is plenty of time. I shouldn't worry about what I didn't say now.

The ceremony proceeds. She continues with rosy cheeks and a very subtle and beautiful smile. She reads her wedding vows, which, I can assure you, she wrote this morning. She likes to be as spontaneous as possible, so I don't doubt that she wanted the words to be fresh for tonight.

The moment comes to say my own vows, but I, being a fool, didn't bring any paper. I trusted myself so much that I didn't write down the words I needed to say. The silliest part is that I have so much in my chest that I could deliver a monologue, but my nerves barely allow me to stutter.

"I do," I manage to say before I am asked anything. People laugh and I feel like an idiot.

The words I want to tell her when they indicate the moment to kiss her, remain on the tip of my tongue and can't find a way out. Many phrases and descriptions travel through my mind, but they don't find a port to land in my partner's ears. I freeze. I am still, so still, that I could swear I will fall over at any moment from how straight I am standing. I could lose my balance as if I were a standing broomstick.

I meander so much, and I think so much, that my feelings remain there, stored, along with those words that couldn't be said. They are locked, with a padlock that could be opened in the time we have left.

I don't remember us giving each other that kiss as husband and wife. I know I was given permission to kiss the bride, but I don't bow at any moment. Besides, I begin to see her blurry, as if I were watching her in a low-resolution video. Then, I see nothing.

And everything is confusing now because I don't remember what is happening either. What day is today? Where am I? Why do I feel like someone is watching me? Then, it becomes eight in the morning, and it is a new day. I wake up with the feeling that I must recall many things, but I tell myself, in this empty bed, that maybe these are twisted ideas in my head.