Beginnings

My earliest memories are vague at best, they evade me and lie hidden in the back corners of my mind. Sometimes it feels like my mind was a chalkboard that someone took an eraser to, and all that remains is the dust and the faint outlines of what had been sketched on it then.

My first recollections of the Hollow seem to begin on a summer day long ago. People were standing around and talking, and I was angry at them all. Everything about my life at that point was confusing. Things kept changing, the people in my life kept changing; now here I was again in a new place, with people who told me they were my family and that this was my new home. It was a lot for someone who was only four years old to take in and deal with, so I drew my pistol and threatened to shoot their chickens if they didn't leave me alone. My cowboy hat, my boots, my pistol and my anger were some of the only things that I had that helped make up my identity. I had no idea where my mother or father were, and was only vaguely aware of my brother and sisters presence. Somehow though, I remember the sun was shining and the breeze was blowing, rustling the green leaves on the trees. Trees and cool air and open space, like the first time I had ever experienced them together. Maybe the magic of memories has shaped that day in my mind, or maybe it was really so, but that day started my memories and shaped many of the days that followed.