Part 1/2

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I am more than glad I mastered this technique when I was only a child. Nothing better than an exceptional memory to pass tests and go through life without many worries. I look up, from the pages I was memorising, at my colleague, who is looking at me intently.

“So you remember everything?” I shake my head.

“No, that’s a photographic memory. Mine is more of a trick. I Imagine a place I know well and attach bits of information to the objects there. Like for me, my memory palace is the local museum.” I close my eyes to demonstrate.

“So, in the main entrance, there's the little kiosk with pamphlets. Each pamphlet is a fact or figure. Like the pamphlet for the penguins at the local zoo has details about penguins themselves.”

I open my eyes to see my colleague nodding in amazement. They pause in thought for a moment then I can see a light shine in their eyes. Clearly, they want to see what I got there. I got used to this after Sherlock popularised the concept, and people began to realise it's not fictional.

“Ok, I know the museum, so what are the arrowheads of the picts associated with?”

I close my eyes again and wander through the museum. For each wing, I have divided it into different subjects to help navigating it even easier. So many just make it their childhood home or something. I find the arrowheads he mentions. “Ok, this one is regarding the battle of Agincourt and the fatalities and information on how it evolved warfare to be more of a range-focused system rather than a general melee.”

He looks amazed as I start to list off facts and figures the average person would have to google just to get.

“What about the Egyptian wing?”

I can’t help but smile. That is the wing where I have put the most information. I am, after all, a big Egypt nerd. So I again close my eyes and walk past the exhibits for dinosaurs, then the greeks finally coming upon…

“Huh?” my confused expression caught my colleague off guard.

“Something up?”

I, however, don’t know what to say. Looking into the room. The room I know so well is a room I have constructed with my mind. I see broken glass. Every display case has been smashed and emptied.

“What is going on?” I mutter under my breath.

“So you got Egypt facts or not?” they ask, pressing me.

“Errr… Ramses was one of the first hieroglyphs translated.” I threw out a fact I knew for them, but I was worried. What had happened? Why would I destroy my own favourite subject? It is as I gaze around the imagined room I finally see it. Large letters above the archway entrance I walked through.

“COME TO THE SERIAL KILLER EXHIBIT!” It even has a smiley face. The disturbing part is, though, it is the one section I have never been to. I find the fascination with criminals a bit iffy. But curiosity now guides my feet.

The wind whipped through my hair as I swung from branch to branch, the sun filtering through the shade of the trees and intermittently kissing me with its warmth. I snatched a colorful fruit from a nearby tree as I sailed past it and landed at the edge of the tree line. I looked out over the sparking blue ocean and breathed deeply of the salty maritime air before taking a big juicy bite of the fruit and sitting down on the tree branch.

There were no ships to obstruct my view of the sea here. No, I was far away from Cyrene now, far from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. My family was a big name in the spice trade, but it was such hard work, and I hated ships. Hated them. They were big ugly scars on the beauty of nature, and it was only in the theater of my own mind that I could escape it all. I learned it from a traveling monk, and with a little meditation, picked it up almost immediately. The ability to go somewhere inside my mind that was so vivid that I could literally smell the sea air? Hear the seagulls? Taste the mysterious fruit that grew here? It was surreal.

And it was all mine.

I could be anywhere I wanted to be; be anything I wanted to be, and sometimes not even on purpose! I was pretty sure that if I looked down at myself, I'd discover that I was a monkey. My mind, my soul, and my heart were connected in this space, and it was where I escaped when life became too much to handle. Things would be different today, however. I tossed the pit of the fruit over my shoulder and leaped from the branch in a diving formation, spreading my wings moments before hitting the ground. I soared just a few feet over the land, passed the point where the grass turned to sand, and then all was blue as I ran my fingers along the waves that reached back at me.

I dove headfirst into the cool blue waters and propelled myself quickly through the shallows with my many fins and tentacles. Colorful fish passed me in the clear blue waters and I marveled at the beautiful corral and the green seaweed that danced in the swells. I powered myself through the currents upward and exploded out of the surface of the water upon new wings which carried me ever higher. I did a loop in the sky and as the wind turned around me, I smiled widely.

It was pure freedom.

I carried myself back to land on warm winds, eager to find another one of those fruits to munch on. However as I soared across the beach, I noticed something curious. I turned around in a wide arc and began my descent as I scrutinized the sands below. After landing softly on the powdery beach I squatted down for a closer look. There was no mistaking it.

There were footprints in the sand.

I stared at them for several seconds before looking up at the horizon line where the tracks led. Greeted only by the blue sky on the horizon, I looked back down at the footprints. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was my mind palace. There shouldn't be anyone else here unless I imagined them here. I tilted my head as I raced through the possibilities. A monkey? No, that wasn't possible, there would be tracks where the knuckles dug into the sand. Could it have been me? Not at all, I hadn't touched the ground since I'd arrived this time. I stood up and began following the tracks along the coast. I had never felt anxious within my own mind palace before. Was there more to this than the monk explained? Could others somehow come here if they were meditating at the same time? I wouldn't have to wonder for long; in the far distance, I spotted a figure standing with her feet in the waves.

I froze. She was staring out at the ocean; if she turned her head even just a little, she'd find me in her peripheral vision. I scurried sideways as quickly as I was able, scuttling up to the treeline as I kept my eyes trained on her. I quietly slithered through the trunks of the trees, making my way closer to her. When I was situated in her blind spot, I hunkered down between the foliage and watched the back of her head. Her hair was black and wavy and it carried hints of auburn when the sun shined on it just right. She was wearing a red flowing dress which, when blown by the coastal winds, revealed her feet and calves, which were wrapped in leather sandals.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" came a voice from directly behind me. I screamed and stumbled out of the trees, falling face-first into the wild grass. I turned around on my hands and scrambled backward as a baby-blue-skinned human floated just above me, laughing at my gracelessness. He had eyes bluer than his skin, and his head was wrapped in a red cloth, on top of which sat a wide-brimmed hat that turned up on the sides. He had an indigo mustache and beard that were well-groomed, and he wore strikingly opulent clothing unlike any I had seen in my life. I came to the conclusion immediately that he wasn't human, but something else from somewhere far away.

"A person?" came a female voice from behind me. I tore my eyes away from the floating blue man to find that the woman on the beach was now marching toward me. I scrambled to my feet and struck a defensive pose. She paused where she stood and smiled.

"No need to worry." She lifted her hands. "I intend no harm."

She truly was beautiful. Like a bronze statue with defined cheekbones; a work of art carved by a master. I swallowed and took a step back as the blue man floated away from me toward her, in a position as though he were lounging on the floor.

"W-who are you?" I asked. "How did you get in here?"

"In here?" she asked, tilting her head. "We are... outside, yes?"

"N-no. I mean, yes, but..." I stammered. "This is... this is my mind palace, ma'am."

"Your mind palace?" the man asked, stroking his chin. "Interesting..."

"My name is Lysandra," the woman spoke, taking a few cautious steps forward. "May I ask your name, young man?"

"... I'm Simon," I answered.

"Simon," she smiled. "A pleasure to meet you. Is there... anyone else here?"

"No," I shook my head. "I mean- I don't think so. There shouldn't be."

Her brown eyes shined in the sun as she looked left and right down the beach. "Interesting indeed."

"Tell me this," spoke the man as he floated into an upright position. "You referred to this place as your mind palace. Yes?"

"Uh... Yeah."

"And you believe you've created this place... yes?" he pressed.

"Yeah!" I said with more conviction than before. "This entire place exists inside my head! A-and I can do anything here! I didn't imagine you, so..."

The two of them exchanged glances.

"How intriguing," she said before locking eyes with me. "And you accomplished this how exactly?"

"Uhh," I paused, realizing how absurd this was about to sound. "Meditation?"

"Ha!" the man guffawed. "Meditation!"

Lysandra lifted her hand to her mouth to cover her smile.

"No, my boy," the man grinned. "Meditation did not accomplish this."

I narrowed my eyes, "Oh yeah? And how would you know? uhh... sir?"

His irises were alight as they lingered on mine, and I felt a pressure generating around the beach. It was as though my body was being drawn into his as he neared me. Dark clouds began to gather independent of my will.

"Because, dear boy..." he spoke quietly but his voice echoed all around. "I am Asacath. I am a god."

My eyes widened.

"And," he added. "So are you."

r/A15MinuteMythos

I had been using the same memory palace for longer than I could imagine. I had my 3 toed monkeys in a tree. The 1 crystal clear lake with 4 koi swimming around.

All that was great, but my house, my house was special.

Walking inside I could find my one-of-a-kind 5-legged dinner table. Most importantly were the 6 windows looking out to my garden where my kids played.

Wait...was that a broken window? I didn't remember putting that there. I went to inspect and as I neared I saw 2 sets of bloody footprints. A sharp chill went through my body as I froze in place.

This wasn't right at all. This wasn't my doing! How though? How could this happen?

I thought about breaking out of my memory palace, pulling myself back...but curiosity drove me to follow the blood.

I followed the footprints to my 16-step staircase.

Step by step I followed the prints upward. Too in shock to make myself stop.

I reached the top of the steps and heard laughter coming from one of my kid's rooms.

Instinct took over and I ran to the door grabbing frantically at the handle and shoving the door open!

I wasn't ready for what I saw.

It was my ex-wife, barefooted, in the white sundress she loved so much...playing with my son.

"Oh, hi Charles." She said looking up at me. Her eyes were pitch black. "You know, I was always so jealous of you caring more about your work and this stupid memory palace than me and the kids. Now that I'm here I can see why you liked it so much. Why don't you come and play with us, Charles?"

"Yes daddy, come play with us." It was 8-year-old son Simon speaking. He looked up at me, with the same all-black eyes his mom had. No whites, just all inky, midnight black.

The car crash came bursting back into my mind. My ex had taken my son Charles without permission. There was a high-speed chase...they didn't make it.

"I'm so sorry, please, it was my fault...please forgive me!" I sobbed

"It's okay daddy, we can stay here forever now. Come play!"

I fell to my knees, grabbed my head, and started rocking. "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."

Paralyzed as always, my full moon never set, nor does it cease to sing to the heart a melody of an unknown yet unmistakable affection. I could've given myself more; stars, meteorites, the endlessness of the sky we've chosen to write out of our lives for shallow comforts, but if all I was going to have was her majesty in that swelling celestial glow, then I was going to be able to nearly perfect it someday. However, tonight, was this an eclipse?

Making rent every month, punctuality, dishwashing; these weren't things I considered among what I do for a living. They only provided my body with tangible comforts, and they left the mind too weary to hear the sorrowful melody of a dying fire; cold in the absence of the warmth of the heart. This is what I did for a living, building my palace; anything to feed the flames, yet lately they have been ravaging the forests of my solitude as if reaching upwards and outwards, towards her; fragmenting my peace of mind, playing with fire.

At first, amidst the persuading pattern of exhaustion, inebriation, empty delights, and then darkness in which my heart was taunted every night, her voice rang, like bells guiding townsfolk to salvation every Sabbath, and her eyes, North Stars for those lost at sea. That moment is frozen forever somewhere, a bustling farmer's market under the mountains of blinding steel and glass; her yellow apple dress, flowing in the winds of her almond hair. Perhaps if I hadn't had her same question, if we both hadn't been lost, the gales of my loneliness would have surely tossed my heart under the merciless tides of eternity. With her I was lost, and she was my ocean, and the moon hid the horizons on all sides with a blinding passion. Not my moon, though, not her majesty, for she rested as my heart was already overflowing with light. Like my father once said, "Once you have your temple in your mind, you can leave it behind if love would call you to his."

As all visitors in the temple of love, we had overstayed our welcome. Ripped away like trespassers in the night, the authorities had cast judgement at dawn.

I lie in the light of my moon, motionless, calm, happy, betrayed as it begins to dim. No, it was not dimming, it was being erased swallowed whole by the faceless devil of restless souls. The last of my heart, flickering like an injured minnow in the eyes of the hungry trout. Yet, why was this my moon? Where was my ocean? The inevitable set its gaze upon my being and in the darkness, I felt its grip restricting my breath. As my eyes slowly open with an unknown primal intent, and where my moon once was, a face appeared. Haloed by operating table lights, distorted helplessly and spilling tears like rain over me, it produced a voice. A man tortured by his own soul, my neighbor called down the curtains over me with a final song. I could only listen. "I'm so fuckin sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry. I didn't know what was happening."

I don't think this is what they had in mind when they gathered us in the assembly hall to listen to the memory coach. I guess they invited him to lecture us about study tips for an hour and a half, so we could more effectively memorize historic facts and chemical formulas (that were utterly useless in any situation outside of a classroom). Definitely not whatever this is.

I close my eyes to take a look at my castle - which is very real and at the same time very much only exists in my imagination. Fifteen years ago I learned that these two things don't have to be mutually exclusive, when I first created it. When the coach taught us about the memory palace technique.

What started with a a few sparsely furnished rooms, a few boxes here and there to store information, has evolved into an elaborate labyrinth of winding corridors, hidden rooms and stone stairs, leading deep and deeper into darkness, further and further underground.

Today, there's still very little furniture. Instead, the rooms are filled with boxes upon boxes, piling up to the ceiling, all of them neatly labeled and sorted by date and type of information. I had to rearrange them a couple of times, as to not lose anything in the chaos that was my mind. Also, the idea of labeling the boxes came much later than I would like to admit - and resulted in an immense effort, considering I had already spent years and years filling up the rooms with information and adding rooms whenever needed without plan or structure.

Now, the only way for me to forget something is to forget where I put the information - which happens a lot when you build a damn maze in your head. While the mind trainer was great, he could have guessed that 9-year-olds are no more good at keeping things in the right place than they are at planning a well-organized house. So I guess what I'm saying is that this technique is by no means perfect, but still - I'm now working on getting my PhD with the only side effect that people sometimes look at me weird when I close my eyes to run around my mind palace, to search for a very specific detail that I just know I put in one of the boxes but I just can't find the right one.

What confuses me is how there could be something in here that I didn't bring. I stare at the overturned piles of boxes in the great hall, single loose sheets of paper scattered on the floor. Folders ripped apart. The window is open - wind rustles through the mess, picking up the papers and making them dance. I never open the windows. I've never even touched the windows in the past fifteen years.

My heart races faster as I storm out of the hall, following the trace of loose paper sheets along the corridor and into the library. When I tear open the door, I almost sob at the sight in front of me.

It's destruction. It's so incredibly sad. Books ripped from the shelves, their pages crumbled and torn. Shoeprints from heavy, dirty boots on the delicate covers. Smashed shelves, broken windows, broken lamps. I grab one of the books from the pile, try to wipe the cover clean with my sleeve, but the dirt just smudges and with a scream of frustration I drop the book again.

I can't stand the sight any longer. I need to leave right now, I need to open my eyes again. And for a split second I have this absurd, ridiculous hope that when I come back, everything will be back to normal, that I will find all my boxes neatly stacked again, all books on their shelves.

When I return, nothing is back to normal. It's still all shit. As I move through the palace, seeking a room miraculously spared from the destruction, an odd feeling creeps up on me. A feeling of being watched.

I should be scared, I guess. But I'm just angry. I never considered myself a person capable of violence, but now I'm rethinking it. And that's why I yell all my anger and sadness and frustration into the darkness of the halls.

"Show yourself, bastard!" My voice echoes from the bare walls as I stare. A second goes by until I remember this is my head and I can do whatever I damn well please, and with a flick of my hand, lights turn on and illuminate the corridor. A person stares back at me, flinching at the sudden brightness. A woman, to be precise.

She's not much younger than me. Her face is framed by brown curls, big, dark eyes look at me in confusion. It takes me a while to recognize her, not because she looks so different, but because I don't understand why she's here - in my mind.

"Ruby", I say, and she approaches me, slowly, carefully. "How on earth did you get in here?"

"I have literally no idea. What is this place?" Her voice is softer than I remember. Her frame smaller than yesterday, when she burst into my office to ask on advice on her thesis.

"It's my mind palace", I reply, but taking a look over my shoulder I sigh and correct myself, "well, it used to be."

"It's a mess", she states, stepping past me into the library. She shakes her head, but I grab her shoulder and pull her around, so she has to look at me. Now there's something else in her eyes. Fear?

"You did this, didn't you?" Ruby shakes her head faster, but I tighten my grip. "Don't lie to me, Ruby. It was all clean and organized when I left and now it's a mess, and you are here. I don't remember letting you in."

She slaps my hand away, stumbling backwards. "I have no idea what happened. I did not ask to be here. I haven't touched anything!", she yells. "I tried getting out! I tried to find a door, but there's just none! It's a labyrinth with no escape! I even tried getting out through the windows!" So that's why they were open. I just stare at her, trying to think of the last time we met, trying to make sense of it all. She was in my office. She wanted to get my opinion on her thesis, even though we're in the same PhD program.

I shake my head. No. She's still in my office. I just went to the palace to find an information, the author of a book she asked about. As I open my eyes and return to my office, she has a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright, David?", she asks. "You've been gone for a while." I don't know what to tell her. That she has somehow entered my mind palace and created chaos? She'd never understand.

"I've just got a headache", I simply say, and she nods.

"I get those all the time", she smiles. "That's what getting a PhD does to you. We can get coffee tomorrow if you'd rather lie down a bit."

My heart skips a beat. "What did you just say?"

"Coffee?", she repeats. "Like we always do?"

"Oh, no, no, it's fine. Let's go for a coffee", I say as I stand up and walk around my desk. Her perfume hangs in the air, making me forget what I was just about to ask her. Knocking over another box of things I am supposed to know, creating more chaos.

That's when it clicks.

It's my fault, I realize. After years and years of solitude - I finally let someone in.

I take the down elevator to a basement where I store memories through age 7. I rarely explore this level of my mind palace. Doors carved with sigils depicting memories line either side of a narrow hall. Fog rolls over thin carpet intricately designed with zigzagging dichromatic whimsy. Occasional knobs sport discreet “do not disturb” signs.

I turn the corner, my foot halts midair and I backpedal pressing my back against a door carved with spoked bike wheels.

Siren alarm bells activate, “Intruder alert… Intruder alert.. Intru-“ emergency protocol morphs the lighting into alternating reds. My ears muffle the alarm with the thudding from my own heart.

Panic freezes my body when a small figure emerges from the busted doorframe. “Hellu there lass” it says. “I didna mean to disturb you!” My eyes are as wide as they’ll go.

Its a fawn, slender hooves pick its way around the debris. “We’ll be on our way in a jiffy, there’s a good lass.” I noticed it held Snowflake, my old teddy bear in the crook of its arm.

It raised the other arm turning their back on me and pointed a limp finger at the door frame, tracing a rectangle. The wood righted itself, splinters rewinding into place. Just like that, they were gone. Cautiously I approach, looking for the carving. Blank?! What did they take? I open the door to a solid wall. I slam it shut and look for another breach.

I pick up speed finding more and more blank fake doors. How long Has this been happening? What could they have taken?? Why!? The siren ends, lighting returns to normal. Calmness seeps through me.

What was I upset about? Just now… hmmm. Oh yeah, I was thinking about my niece's fish. I wanted to explore the aquarium I went to when I was 4. Huh funny how easily I get side tracked! I find the door with bubbles, fish and shark carvings. I smile, open the memory to step inside and close the door behind me.

Every day I sleep for 8 hours, I work for 8 hours, and I meditate for 8 hours. Of the 8 hours I sleep, I lucid dream for 5 of them. Of the 8 hours I work, my mind palace is automated as I work. Of the 8 hours I meditate, I am constantly learning, exploring, and expanding my mind palace.

Most see the mind palace as a memorization trick of some sort. Create a palace and each door holds information on a subject to remember. Door 1 is information of your parents, door 2 is your siblings, door 3 is your job, until you can’t think of more doors to make. I’ve gone above and beyond memorization.

Through meditation I’ve taught myself how to play every instrument, learn every language, read every book, and so much more. My mind palace through meditation allows me to do anything I can put my mind to. If I want to visit the top of Mount Everest, I meditate. If I want to read the new book on discovered frog species, I meditate. If I want to enjoy some tv and relax in a sauna, I meditate. A form of astral projection almost, but all still within my mind.

My meditation palace works more like the internet than anything else. If I want more information on a subject, I can feel the palace absorbing the information almost out of thin air. That’s how quick it feels. In reality, or metaphysically, however one would interpret this other-worldly phenomenon, I still need to experience myself going to whatever library in whatever part of the world and picking up whatever book and reading through every page normally. 8 hours out there, is a week in here, and I’ve been doing this since I was 6.

I work as a detective. The vast amounts of knowledge and logical reasoning makes being a correspondent the most logical choice to put my capabilities to good use. Steering the police in the right direction when they aren’t looking between the lines, figuring out the culprit before leaving the investigation room, it all comes natural for me as my mind palace continues automatically as I use my critical thinking skills.

Today, something weird happened. I walked into the room under investigation and… my mind was racing too fast for itself. It felt like an explosion. It was only a few seconds, but that simply doesn’t happen to me. I continued as normal and everything went along as it normally would, but my mind was stuck on that sudden explosion.

Tonight I went through my normal meditation for 8 hours. After 35 hours and 17 minutes, while reading up on the newly discovered frogs, I was stunned by the sudden loud noise of a popper and dropped the book in the process. I instantly knew something was wrong. I made it my personal mission to check through every conceivable crevice of my mind palace. But there was nothing to be found.

The next day, I went to work as I normally do, everything very routine as it has been for the last 6 years. I was somehow 10 minutes late. I went back over my routine. 7:00 wake up and shower, 7:20 breakfast, 7:50 dress. 8:00 leave, arrive by 8:30. I recalled the traffic I went by to get here. The same car that takes the same route as me halfway was in front of me again, as per usual. The old woman enters the coffee shop at 8:23 just the same as today. Yet somehow I still lost 10 minutes. It didn’t make sense. The thought of losing 10 minutes would bug me for the rest of the day but I still had a job to do.

And that job was further hindered by 3 more instances of my mind thinking too fast for itself. Each taking about 10 seconds each. Not anything magnanimous in the sense of time but the occurrences are becoming more frequent, and I believe becoming longer. I was starting to worry.

I made it back home and went into meditation again. 27 hours 14 minutes, I was trying to relax with a dip in the hot tub while some classical music played. Two loud poppers goes off one right after the other. Something still isn’t right. 79 hours 28 minutes, still in search of the cause of these irritations, a firecracker goes off at my feet. I immediately hop away from the firecracker as the tip of my index finger and thumb on my right hand both tingle at the same time. 154 hours 13 minutes, a bullet whizzes past my cheek that I couldn’t see coming. Now I’m bleeding, in my mind palace. I must be going crazy or something, I control everything in here. What in the world is going on. The same hand that my fingers had tingled, now is covered in residue. I sniff the residue. Gunpowder.

I didn’t sleep well. Lucid dreams usually allow me to take control and do things much like my meditation palace does, but tonight, my dreams decided to push back. Dreams turned into nightmares, with no way of escape until they decided it was over. I was powerless. Finally cornered with no where to go, I accepted my fate and knelt on the ground with my arms wide open. A bullet grazed my cheek just the same as before. I woke up. 4:04 A.M.

Nothing else mattered now. I needed to figure out the problem. I went back to meditating. 31 hours, the palace entrance was blown up. 70hours, the palace decorum went from lavish to gaudy. 176 hours, rooms started disappearing. 298 hours, a room filled with explosives knocked me to the ground as I entered. 456 hours, a door I didn’t make appeared out of nowhere, I opened it only to have an army worth of arrows to be shot my direction, closing the door worked. 587 hours, dinosaurs started rampaging through the palace. 734 hours, men with flamethrowers started searching for me. 909 hours, termites started eating through portions of the walls and doors. 1001 hours, giant frogs poured in from everywhere. 1120 hours, the entirety of the palace was vigorously shaking. Everything was falling apart. I stumbled into a full body mirror and took a look at myself. My face smiled creepily back at me. Then small pieces of my body were cracking and exploding away. Then my whole body exploded as the full body mirror shattered into a million pieces.

I was told later that my partner found me in my living room in perfect meditation stance, completely unresponsive to anything and everything. I was rushed to the hospital where I was effectively in a coma for 3 months. When I recall back to all the things that had happened in my own mind palace, I realized I was the one that caused all of it to happen. I created the explosives and set them up to explode, I released the dinosaurs and frogs, I created the flamethrower men to search for only me, all of it was my own doing. I was my mind’s own worst enemy.

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