I wake up with a start, gasping for breath. Blinking, I look around, not knowing where I am or who I am. I am lying in a bed in a white room with no windows, hooked up to an IV. I feel something resting against my shoulder. Frowning, I lift my hand and feel a long, thin braid coming from behind my ear, tied off at the end by a blue thread and several colored beads. The rest of my hair is cut short.
Panic grips me as I attempt to search the void for some glimmer of remembrance.
I wrench the IV out of my wrist, wincing at the sharp pain, and slip out of the bed, trying to be silent. I nervously glance at the door. There is no handle, but when I wave my hand at it, it opens with a whoosh! I creep out, looking both ways before exiting the room.
I am in a hallway. No one is about, so I have the liberty of mulling over which way to go. Left or right – I only have two choices. Something deep inside me – something I don’t understand or remember – tells me to go left. A voice calls, but it isn’t audible; it’s like the voice is in my head! I feel almost compelled to reply, but baffled, I try to shut the voice out. Without meaning to, I automatically throw up a mental shield. How do I know how to do that?
Hurried footsteps come down the hall to my left, so I make a quick decision. I quickly run to the right, but realize that the hallway is perfectly straight, so anyone would be able to see me. A deep voice calls out from behind. Driven by fear and adrenaline, I pump my legs faster but slide to an abrupt halt as I reach a dead end. Turning around and pressing myself up against the wall in terror, I see a tall man with shoulder-length brunette hair running towards me. He wears a white tunic and a caramel-brown cloak that billows about him like water.
“Padawan,” he says, slowing to a stop, his voice cautious.
I’m trapped. My eyes nervously scan the empty corridor. If I’m fast enough, I can slip past him.
The man takes one step forward, and that’s the breaking point for me. With a yelp, I push past and sprint up the hallway, searching for a way out. I must have shocked the man, because there is a pause before I hear his pounding footsteps behind me.
Just in time, I reach the exit. Before I can escape, however, two people step in front of me. I back up, only to be grabbed from behind by the man who had tried to catch me earlier. I scream as he spins me around to face him.
“Obi-Wan?” the man asks, kneeling on the ground and gripping my shoulders. He studies me, and then utter anguish and sorrow passes over his face, making my heart clench.
“Obi?” he says. When I stare at him and don’t reply, he gasps softly. “Oh, Force… He’s lost his memory!”
“Who am I?” I ask suddenly. He looks at me, and I am shocked to see unfathomable love and tenderness in the depths of his eyes. I feel sick to my stomach that I cannot remember this man.
“You are Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi. You are thirteen-years-old and my padawan.”
“A Jedi?” I gasp. “Really?”
He nods, his blue eyes shimmering in the artificial light.
“Who are you?” I ask, looking up at him. Sorrow flickers across his face before he answers.
“I am Qui-Gon Jinn, your Master,” he whispers.
“So you are my father?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Well, er, not exactly, but y-yes.”
My gaze drops to the floor before nervously flittering up to see Qui-Gon’s eyes fixed on my face. “I’m sorry,” I mutter quietly.
“For what, Obi?” Qui-Gon asks. His fingers tighten ever so slightly on my shoulders.
“For not remembering–” my words are cut off as Qui-Gon pulls me into a hug, holding me tight.
“This is not your fault,” he says as I clutch the front of his cloak and begin to cry. “I’ll make things right. I promise.”
I feel so safe with Qui-Gon, and I want him to protect me forever. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying to banish the tears, and as I do, a flicker of something touches the edge of my mind. Startled and a little scared, I pull away and look up at Qui-Gon.
“Trust me,” he says.
I nod, closing my eyes and laying my head on Qui-Gon’s chest, where I can hear his steady heartbeat. I wait. Slowly, my mind is covered with a presence infused with warmth, affection, and healing.
“What is it?” I murmur quietly.
“Our bond,” Qui-Gon replies. “The mental bond between all masters and padawans,” he pauses. “Now rest, Obi.”
I nod, sleep swiftly taking over at his words. I feel certain that I will be safe as long as Qui-Gon, the man who is like my father, is near. Is it just me, or has the black void of my memory turned to grey?
Consciousness returns to me slowly, but I long to remain asleep. I feel warm and secure, and the world around me is quiet and peaceful. My mind urges me to wake up, so reluctantly, I open my eyes. As light floods into my awareness, so do my memories. Like a torrent of water released from a dam, they pour into my mind, filling all the gaps they had left behind.
I sit up, too relieved to do anything but stare in wonder as recognition swirls around me.
What happened? I think, trying to understand how I had lost my memory in the first place.
“Let me tell you, Padawan.” A deep voice echoes from behind, and I turn around to see my master, Qui-Gon, standing in the doorway.
“Master!” I cry, slipping out of bed and throwing my arms around him. I can tell that he is shocked. I don’t usually show my affection, but I am too ecstatic to care. “My memories are back!”
“I see,” my master says, unable to hold back his grin. “You had me very worried.”
“What happened, Master?” I ask, trying to pinpoint the last thing I remember.
“We were on a mission on which we had to resort to, shall we say, aggressive negotiations, and you hit your head. Fortunately, Master Windu arrived to assist us, so I left him in charge while we rushed home to Coruscant. You were unconscious for three days.”
I touch the back of my head gently. Now that I think about it, it does feel a little tender.
Qui-Gon puts an arm about my shoulders and leads me into the kitchen. Content with the knowledge that everything is fine, I sigh happily and think about how lucky I am to have a master like mine.
Meet the Author
How old are you?
I am fourteen years old.
Where do you live?
I live on the beautiful island of Rarotonga in the South Pacific nation of the Cook Islands.
What classes are you taking with TPS?
I am currently taking three classes with TPS: English 3 Lit Analysis and Comp #7 with Miss Shearon, Health and Wellness #2 with Mrs. Monfreda, and College and Career Planning #1 with Mrs. Holliday.
What is your favorite thing about writing?
My favourite thing about writing is that I can express myself freely without worrying about what other people think. It’s also a de-stressing practice for me, as well as a way to honour my God. Usually, I like to write short Star Wars or Lord of the Rings fanfiction, but I am also writing a long novel that is eight months in the making so far!