The pain shot through his head as if someone was stabbing it with white hot rods. His eyes fought through the pain and opened.

Strange faces were staring at him. A doctor was looking down at him… Concerned. A nurse was checking his IV bottle… Observant. The memory of a car pushing him to the curb almost brought the pain back, which made him scream, made him breathe and made him speak.

‘Who are you? Tell me your name’ probed the doctor.

‘Tyler Dickens. I’m from Chicago’, he managed.

‘Tyler, you met with an accident yesterday. It hurt your head pretty bad, but you seem much better now. We need to observe you longer. Do you have family we can speak to?’

‘Yes, My wife, Lynda’. He gave them the details.

All this while the nurse was staring at him. Like she was looking for something on his face. It scared him. So much, that he did not want to blame it on his pain and shock. He knew he had to get out of there.

As soon as the doctor and the nurse left the room, his military training kicked in, and he managed to pull the tubes off, pick up his tattered clothes and leave. Why hadn’t Lynda come yet? She was on the phone with him just before the freak accident. It didn’t fit.

He tried to call her from his calling card. Dead. He tried to access his bank on the teller machine. Denied. Strange. With a few spare bills in his jacket, he got himself a cab and headed to the one place he needed right now. Home.

When he reached the place he’s lived with his beautiful wife, and eight year old daughter, Wendy, he felt calmer. He found the front door open and barged in, expecting to be greeted by his little one.

‘Lynda! Wendy!’

His shouts were answered by a familiar voice. A familiar but unsure voice.

‘Hey. Who are you? What do you want? How dare you enter my house? I could call the cops!!’

It was Lynda. She looked beautiful. Too beautiful. Younger perhaps. And her blonde hair… It was shorter… way shorter. ‘What are you doing here? I will have you arrested. Get OUT!’

What just happened? What was his wife talking about? What happened to Wendy? What was he missing? It struck him to look around the house. His house. The furniture. The walls. Everything was the same, just as they planned it 6 years ago.  When he took a step closer to Lynda, what he saw behind her shocked him. It was a picture of their vacation to India last year. Himalayas… Lynda… Her new salwar. But where was he? Panic gripped him. This must be a nightmare. He couldn’t digest it, and blindly ran out of the house. Throat dry, he could feel the chagrin in his mouth.

Everything looked clear, as he recalled it. But the whole world seemed to have forgotten him. And just when he crossed over the lawn to get to the street, a blinding light hit him in the face and he groaned his way into the black.

The pain shot through his head as if someone was stabbing it with white hot rods. His eyes fought through the pain and opened.

‘Who are you? Tell me your name’ the same doctor, probed him again.

‘I… err’

He looked at the woman with long blonde hair, standing behind the doctor.

‘This is your wife, Lynda’, the doctor said.

She added, ‘Honey, I’m here to take you home’

The doctor looked concerned and turned to him. ‘Can you recall where you are from?’

‘I… I don’t remember…. Anything…’ he blinked. His mind was blank.

At the foot of the bed, the nurse observing him closely, smiled. ‘Amnesia’, she scribbled into his charts. She heard what she wanted to and walked away.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Conscious

  1. For a second, it had me wondering if he’d walked into his past or future for that matter! Cool twist gal… Write more 🙂 You are good at this, as you’re in many many many other things 😉 😀 know what i mean…?

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s