I Don’t Want to Start a Story!

Max waited patiently on the porch of the farmhouse. Overlooking the fields of sleeping cows, it would’ve been a restful night if all the conscious creatures weren’t waiting for the next victim to be taken. Although he couldn’t be certain of the time, there was little doubt the aliens were late tonight. Perhaps the prompting for the story had reached its end? Unlikely… Story prompts usually continue until someone else assumes the role of the main character. As far as he knew, no one had faced the aliens. Even the people being paid to do so.

“Another hot night.” Max jumped from Bessie’s voice before giving her a small smile. Did she complete the paperwork early and was waiting to find out the name and number of the latest cow to file for? Or were her husband’s snores too unbearable again.

“They’re late tonight,” he shuffled, allowing her to take up 75% of the porch steps. The wood creaked slightly from the sudden burden placed on it but remained strong. It had to. Otherwise, Bessie wouldn’t hesitate getting Max and her husband to rip the whole porch out and replace it with another. “Think Juniper was the last one?”

“Hopefully not,” Bessie flatly admitted. “There are a few more old birds out there who need replacing anyway.” They looked out into the dark fields that were only illuminated by the moon and stars. It didn’t take long for Max to get fidgety as he waited for a prompt from the system. “Another stranger showed up in the village today… Do you still not remember anything?”

“Nothing,” Max lied without hesitation. “You’re going to have to come up with names for all the new calves.” He could sense that Bessie didn’t appreciate him changing the conversation back to the cows. Eventually, she sighed and caved.

“I’ve been thinking about it.” She had to be the one thinking about it, neither Max nor the farmer had any interest in naming them. “I suppose it’s time to say goodbye to my berry girls and start something new.” Berry girls? “I was thinking about different colours-”

“Berry girls?” Max interrupted. Who were the berry girls?

“You must’ve noticed?” Bessie seemed disappointed in him. He thought about it for a second before it dawned on him. He felt dumber than Aldwin when he finally pieced it together. Straw-berry, Blue-berry, Elder-berry, Cloud-berry, Salmon-berry, and even Juniper-berry; they were her ‘berry girls’. His look of realisation must’ve given him away. “Wait, you genuinely didn’t realise? Come on now, Max, I thought you were smart.”

“I’m not very good with names,” he admitted, as his mind continued going through their herd of cows. Lingon-berry, Boysen-berry, Huckle-berry.

“Bill is the same.”

“Bill?” Goose-berry, Wolf-berry, Bear-berry.

“He doesn’t see a reason for them to have names, but without a name how will we know which cow has been taken by aliens?” She clucked her tongue in frustration. It was only then that Max realised Bill must be the name of the farmer. It didn’t suit him. No wonder he kept forgetting it.

Max gave her a smile to show he generally agreed with her. “It does make them feel more special. How about the name you gave me?”

“Max?”

“Yeah, there isn’t a Max-berry, is there?

Bessie started howling with laughter. “No, of course not.” Max felt suddenly relieved that he wasn’t a member of the berry girls. “Max is the name of our last guard dog.” What? “You’ll find his grave over there,” she pointed at a small stone in front of an oak tree. “He was a good dog, that Max.”

“…You named me after your dead dog?”

“Is that a problem?” Bessie asked, getting defensive. Max was about to deny it bothering him, but he couldn’t force the obvious lie out from his lips. He was grateful for being given a place to live, like the newest stranger, but the origin of his name felt demeaning. It seemed his conflicted feelings were obvious. “I’ll tell you what, Max. I’ll stop calling you ‘Max’ when you remember your original name.”

Suddenly, ‘Max’ didn’t seem too bad. At least it was a common name in this world. “Then I’ll be sure to tell you my real name as soon as I remember,” he lied effortlessly. Keeping up the appearance of a stranger was key to an easier time in a world aching to tell a story.

“I’m looking forward to that day.” She had a slightly faraway look on her face. Did she see through his lie? It didn’t really matter since she couldn’t prove it anyway. “You know… My name isn’t really Bessie.”

For some reason, the revelation shocked Max more than the berry girls. How could she not be a ‘Bessie.’ Compared to farmer Phil, her name was perfect for her. Max gave a forced smile as he tried to come to terms with what she said. “Oh… Is it short for something? Like Elizabeth?”

“Nope. I always thought that the name my parents gave me didn’t suit me. So, when I married Bill, I took the opportunity to change my name.” How could he forget his name was Bill again? At least it was similar to Phil.

Max finally stood up, at peace with the idea of missing the aliens tonight and settling for doing a herd check in the morning. “I tell you what, if I ever remember my real name, you have to tell me your real name.” There was a slight twinkle in her eye. It seemed like the idea intrigued her.

With a hefty push from her thighs, she ungracefully rose. “Sounds like a deal. I hope that day isn’t too far away.” The tone in her voice unsettled Max. She knew. She knew he had been lying to her about his memories being completely gone. It was her smile that made him relax again. She knew, and it didn’t seem to matter. “Night Max.”

“Night Bessie.”