The moon shone down brightly on the orange and green leaves of the forest. The surrounding trees felt like an enclosure with an endless path leading down no where. The building intensity of the distant rustling of the leaves would scare anyone who decided to go wandering around this forest. Mark ran down the path, hoping this seemingly endless journey to the tower, where he had lived for many years, would come to a close soon. He had been away from the tower, looking randomly around for something that would protect the large domain of the structure. At the break of dawn, he made it to the chipped wooden door of the altitudinous tower. Mark set his dry hands on the old wooden door with great relief and a expectation for it to open on its own.

Mark pushed against the door, and despite applying sufficient force, could not open the door.
"Strange!", he quietly thought to himself. Although familiar, there was something different about what he remembered about his old abode. He looked down, and noticed some mysterious markings just above the handle. Etched in the wood were 5 blue glowing foreign symbols, and below that, a concise message.

You are not what you remember!

"What does this all mean? Nothing I have done in the past few days have made an ounce of sense, and this has only added to my ever-growing confusion," Mark ponders to himself.

Indeed, the last few days have been unusually quiet, and the people around the tower have been peculiarly civil. In fact, Mark's last memory of the quiet town around the tower has been one of chaos and disorder.

"There's something suspicious going on," Mark says quietly to himself, as he ruminates the irony that a town bathing in peace feels troubling. Mark turns away from the tower, and heads into town, determined to find some clarity on what is going on.

As Mark strolled through the town, he couldn't help but notice the blank expressions on the faces of the townspeople. It was as if they were all in a trance, going about their daily routines with no recollection of who they were or where they came from. Mark approached a group of townspeople and asked them if they knew him, but all he received in return were vacant stares and mumbled responses.

Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Mark decided to visit the town's local library. As he browsed through the shelves, he stumbled upon a dusty old book titled "The Forgotten Town: A History of Memory Erasure." Intrigued, he flipped through the pages and discovered that the town had been taken over by a mysterious force that had the ability to erase memories.

But what puzzled Mark the most was that the force had targeted him as well, wiping out his memories of his past life and his connection to the town. Suddenly, everything made sense. The strange symbols on the door of his tower, the blank expressions of the townspeople, it all pointed to a sinister plot to erase the memories of everyone in the town.

As Mark delved further into the book, he learned that there was one person in the town who had somehow managed to resist the memory erasure; the village idiot. The idiot, known as Bobo, was the only one who remembered everything that had happened before the mysterious force took over.

With a newfound sense of determination, Mark set out to find Bobo and unravel the secrets of the forgotten town. He searched high and low, asking everyone he met if they knew where Bobo could be found. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mark stumbled upon a small shack on the outskirts of town. Inside, sitting in a corner, was Bobo, rocking back and forth and muttering to himself.

"Bobo, it's me, Mark. Do you remember me?" Mark asked, hoping for some answers.

Bobo looked up with a vacant expression, his eyes clouded over with confusion. "Mark? Who's Mark?"

Mark's frustration boiled over as he tried to make sense of Bobo's response. How could this be? Bobo was the key to unlocking the mystery of the memory erasure, and yet here he was, acting as if he had never met Mark before.

"Bobo, snap out of it! You have to remember, you're the only one who can help me figure out what's going on in this town," Mark pleaded, his voice tinged with irritation.

Bobo continued to stare blankly, seemingly lost in his own world. Mark clenched his fists in frustration, feeling the weight of the entire town's fate resting on his shoulders. He needed Bobo's memories to piece together the puzzle, and the fact that Bobo seemed unable to provide any information only added to his growing annoyance.

"Listen to me, Bobo," Mark said sharply, trying to break through to the man before him. "You hold the key to unlocking the secrets of this town. If you don't help me, we're all doomed."

But Bobo's vacant expression did not change, and Mark felt a wave of exasperation wash over him. How could he unravel a mystery when the one person who held the answers seemed to be lost in his own mind?

Mark's outburst echoed through the tiny shack as he unleashed his frustration on poor Bobo. The bewildered village idiot stood frozen, his vacant expression unmoved by Mark's violent attempts to shake him back to reality.

"Snap out of it, you damn fool. This town's fate depends on your memories!" Mark's voice cracked with desperation as he continued to plead with Bobo.

In a moment of sheer despair, Mark resorted to slapping Bobo's face in a misguided attempt to jog his memory. But the blows yielded no response from Bobo, who remained trapped in his own world, oblivious to Mark's turmoil.

As Mark's cries of anguish filled the room, he fell to his knees, defeated by the overwhelming weight of the situation. Tears streamed down his face, his heart heavy with the thought of failing to unlock the town's secrets.

Just when Mark felt utterly broken, a faint voice pierced through the haze of his sorrow. "Mark? Is that you?" Bobo's uncertain words cut through the tension, prompting Mark to meet his gaze once more.

In that moment, as Bobo's cheeks flushed red from the force of Mark's slaps, a glimmer of recognition sparked in his eyes. The hint of familiarity in his voice ignited a spark of hope within Mark, urging him to listen intently to what Bobo had to say.

"Why are you crying, Mark?"

"Bobo! Quickly, tell me what is happening in this town?" Mark says, as he frantically shakes Bobo to his senses.

"Whatever do you mean Mark? Everything is as it's supposed to be." Bobo replies calmly, though slightly confused by Mark's line of questioning.

As frustration starts to boil over for Mark, he searches for clues inside Bobo's house for anything that could jolt Bobo's memory to a time when things were as Bobo so succinctly put it, as it's supposed to be. Without so much as a hint given to Bobo as to what he was doing, Bobo inquisitively looks over to Mark as he rummages through his belongings.

"Bobo does not understand, but will help Mark," Bobo says obligingly, as if asked to aid Mark's bewildering behaviour.

Both men search the house with contrasting vigor, with Bobo periodically muttering, "This looks interesting..."

Mark turns to Bobo each time, getting increasingly disappointed with every irrelevant trinket that Bobo presents to him. Finally, Bobo shows a torn paper with a detailed painting of the tower, and Mark excitedly exclaims, "BOBO, when did you get that?

"Bobo paints beautiful pictures! Do you like it Mark?" replies Bobo with enthusiasm.

"I do Bobo. And right now, this may be the answer we need!"