The Rising Sun

Helen isn’t sure if it’s a dream or a memory, but she knows it’s important.

Helen woke from a sound sleep. A tear streaming down her face. She saw the sun rising red hot. Panicking she clutches her pearl necklace. It shatters. Gone forever. Can't be a memory. It must have been a dream. She closed her eyes and drifted back asleep.
Morning arrived. Helen sat on the edge of the bed, her mind filling with memories from last summer. Tokyo. Warm lights reflecting across the Sumida river. Dancing with a handsome stranger beneath the stars. Laughing, flirting, behaving in ways completely unlike herself, yet somehow perfectly natural.
She dressed and walked downstairs.
Her husband smiled from the breakfast table. “Your green tea, rice and miso soup are on the counter."
Another memory crashed into her mind. A tiny Tokyo café. Enjoying Yokan, such a sweet and delicious treat. Having black drip coffee. She stared at the rough-looking man before her. Disgust twisted across her face.
He isn’t my type.
Why would I ever marry him?
He casually handed her the morning newspaper. Several stories had been carefully cut away, leaving ragged holes scattered across the pages.
“Why are these missing?” she whispered.
He froze.
The room suddenly spun. Memories exploded through her mind. Dancing and secrets being whispered. Her sudden rage. The Police. A struggle. Darkness.
She looked directly into his soulless eyes.
“You’re not my husband.”
His expression changed instantly. Calm disappeared, replaced by cold calculation.
“You can't help them. I'll make sure of that." he said with certainty.
She tried to run.
Something heavy slammed into the back of her head.
Everything went dark...
When she woke, he was gone.
Then she remembered she wasn't Helen, but Helena. What was she trying to remember? Something about December? Think Helena. Think.
Yes. This year 1941! Sadly, he was right, she was to late.

WC 300