Anamnesis

 Back at it again with the journaling games! This one is Anamnesis, which can be found Here. Once again, the instructions are missing, you need to actually get the game. I used Yoshi Yoshitani's Tarot of the Divine as my deck.

"You play as an individual who has woken up with memory loss. You do not remember who you are, where you are, or what you care about. As you draw tarot cards, you fill the blank spaces of your past and learn more about your present." 

Shadow: Justice
ACT I:
You wake up in an unfamiliar place, seemingly within a town or
city. You cannot remember who you are or why you are here. All
you know for certain is that you are not in your home.
Temperance, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, 9, 2, 5
I wake up in an unfamiliar town, in the middle of a cramped but clean alley. I do not know enough about this place to tell if that is surprising or not.
My clothes look fancy, but at the same time a little travel-worn. There is dirt on the hem of my skirt, and I am wearing boots and not—I do not know what I would be wearing instead. The colors are a very rich red and gold. My sleeves are close fitting but go to my hands, and my skirt flares out when I turn. I touch my face and there are glasses; it becomes apparent I very much need them. It feels correct that I should wear such clothing. It is not incredibly costly, but it is obvious I did not want in the ways of material things.
I take a breath and it smells like cooking bread. I am very hungry. I guess, because I am instantly craving the food. I follow the smell out of the alley, to the bakery, staring in the window. I do not have any money. It would not be right to just assume that they would give me food because I am lost. I try to peel myself away from the window. Before I can fully leave, the person working in the bakery notices me, and their face goes pale, briefly, before they run out from behind the counter to come outside.
“Yes, my lady. Would you like anything?” They actually bow a little bit when speaking to me.
“I have no money.” My voice comes out a little horse.
They don’t look me in the eye, but make a strange face all the same. We both stand there in confusion for a minute, before they decide something.
“I’ll be right back, my lady.” They duck back into the store, and barely a few seconds later are handing me bag. It smells amazing.
“Thank you.” I say. “I shall pay you back when I can.”
The baker flushes for some reason, bows again, and goes back inside.

ACT II:
After getting your bearings, you walk around town. You know this
town. You know it well, but you cannot remember it.
The emperor, death, the high priestess, 5, 6, 10
As I continue walking, I begin to notice that people are looking at me and whispering to those near them. I keep my back straight, trying to look confident, like I know where I am. I do not know where I am.
I hear bit of conversations as I pass.
“…heard they finally let her out of…”
“Don’t you think she looks different now?”
“…should have just killed her, honestly…”
“…they haven’t actually proven that…”
I keep going until someone blocks my path with intent. “Bellona?” This woman is old, hunched and wrinkled, but her eyes are clear.
As she is looking at me, that must be my name. I falter, coming to a stop.
“Hello.” I say, bowing slightly as the baker had to me.
It is obvious this was not expected, given the shock coloring the woman’s face. She schools it into neutrality soon enough. “You are recovered?” she asks.
“Recovered from what?” It is out of my mouth before I can think it might not be the best idea.
There is a crowd loosely gathering around us. People looking at me with hope, or suspicion, or both flickering in their eyes.
“Well,” after a moment, the woman takes my hand, the one not holding the bag from the baker, and holds it between her own. “I hope you will be well.” She presses our joined hands to her forehead, before releasing me. She nods once before walking away.
I stand there for another minute, trying to understand what just happened.
Feeling the pressure from crowds, I keep walking, until I see a gate in a wall that I somehow know must lead out of the town proper.
After walking another ten minutes, I come across a graveyard. I instantly feel at peace, and of course I do not know why.
I find a spot that is not being used by a grave, sit, and open the bag from the baker. There are two chocolate rolls inside, still warm. I debate whether it is disrespectful to the dead to eat here, before realizing I do not care. Halfway through the second roll, something tells me that the dead do not care either. I feel a presence like a dream, and something compels me to rip of a small part of the roll and offer it to the empty air. I feel the wind against my hand and the bit of roll disappears. I do not find it alarming; it makes perfect sense for reasons I do not understand.

ACT III:
You manage to find your home. The façade is unfamiliar. You fish
the key out of your pocket and open the door.
The moon, the fool, the hierophant, 5, page, knight
 I end up back inside the town, in a part with new bricks and clean houses. Bigger houses than some of the businesses in other parts of the town.
I take the key out of my belt, and the lock opens under my hand. The door doesn’t squeak when I push it, which registers to me as pleasing. After entering, I just decide to wander, to see where my subconscious mind takes me.
The foyer is grand, rich colors against a nice wooden foundation. I wander each room; everything seems to be as a person would leave it, until I come to a room that would probably be a study. Things are strewn everywhere; papers are torn and some have been dumped in the unlit fireplace. There is a long path of scoring along one wall, as though by a sharp weapon, ripping through the wood.
Someone was looking for something. Was it myself, or someone else? There is no way to know if they found what they were looking for.
I begin to pick up the scattered paper. I find a messy handwriting, legible to myself at least. It might be mine.
It appears to be notes on a legal case, letters, and journal pages. The legal notes are concerning a someone who must be a prominent member of the community, and a terrible crime they might have committed. The letters are from several people, addressed to me, asking me to consider the reputation of the town and the family of the accused. They want me to keep that in mind in my ruling. And finally, the journal pages are in my handwriting again, and my dilemma between justice and approval. As I read, it becomes apparent that the accused was certainly guilty, and I did not feel like I had a choice. The last journal entry I can find ends with my explanation of the situation: Their family isn’t really someone you can mess with. But someone has to keep the masses safe. If I disappear, know that I did not do so of my own volition.
The papers fall from my hands.
In haste to pick it all up, I trip over something small. I examine it closely. A part of the floorboard is sticking up slightly. Pulling on the edge reveals a space under the floor, with a small box inside.
I open the box carefully with the same key as my front door.
Inside this box are more letters between  myself and my family. Letters where I disparage the townsfolk for their simplemindedness, the contempt I have for them. At the same time, I go out of my way to help them. I hate those who think their status makes them immune to the law, and I have gone after families who hold a lot of influence, in the name of justice.
In a letter to my mother, I say almost the same as my journal: If by chance you do not hear from me, know that I am most likely beyond help. But I will not leave this town by choice.
It all swirls in my head. The people who thought it strange when I treated them as an equal. The people on the street who looked at me like I was a chance at salvation. The people on the street who looked at me like I was the devil. The respect, and the hatred. The lack of memories in my head.

ACT IV:
You have learned much about yourself. Take some time to reflect.
The magician, strength, the hermit reversed, 7, queen, 10
In a flash of anger, I take the box with the letters, the journal, and all my notes, and throw them into the ashes. I light the match with shaking hands, but I do not hesitate to throw it into the fireplace. It takes longer to catch than I thought it would, but it catches, all the same. I watch my handwriting go up in smoke. I breathe heavy, feeling myself come down from the high destruction brings.
I press a hand to my face and realize I am crying. Tears streaming down my cheeks, hitting the fire with a sizzle.
I gave so much to this town, to try to keep the average person safe, to keep those who didn’t deserve it from abusing their power.
And what did I get for it?
A head empty of memories. I don’t know what they did to me, plain and simple. I doubt I ever truly will understand. They had the ability to do this to me, so then what were they doing to people less visible? Less protection?
I sob into my hands.
I let myself sit like that for a minute, before I make myself get off the floor. Get on my feet.
I still have to help those people. Even if half of them want me dead. I cannot simply give up. Ideas whirl around my head.
Abduction, assault of a judicial official, obstruction of justice…
I find a blank page in the journal and rip it out. I find a pen and begin writing.
I can’t send this. This will be for anyone to find, should this happen again. I shudder when I consider it might, but I cannot stop just because something might happen to me. Things are already happening to other people. I write instructions to anyone who would read it, how to keep going should they actually kill me. What to tell me should I come back like this, where my other documents in the courthouse are. I regret burning the letters, but in the moment it felt as though I had no choice.

ACT V:
Your past may shape your experiences, your thoughts,
your desires, but it does not define you. You are in control
of your own path. The road ahead may be built from the
stones that you’ve gathered, but these fragments of your
past do not dictate where it leads. It is time to move
forward.
Judgement
The High Judge believes me.
The old man listens to my testimony, examinations are done on my mind, and the family who thought they could get away with it are brought in, in front of the town they thought they could use for their own gain.
They have no solid defense for themselves. It might have gone a bit better, had they not contradicted their own defense lawyer in front of the whole court. As it is, they are exiled from the town. “For trying to take advantage of the community that raised you, you are forbidden from it forever more.”
The contempt I have for the average person never comes back. We are the same.
I never do find out what exactly they thought happened to me, for the time I was disappeared. It doesn’t matter that much to me.
The old woman Hilde, who greeted me on the street, is a respected member of the community herself. She is one of the voices of reason, and was one of the witnesses in the original case that got me in trouble. I learn that many people involved in that case had to go into hiding, or left the town completely to escape that family’s wrath.
I wonder if it is worth it to try contacting them, say it is okay to come back.
I keep my post as a judge. Maybe another person, another me, would have moved away from that past, but I am not that person anymore. I keep my compassion locked inside my chest.
I will help this community, whether it wants me or not.