Morning Amnesia

Morning Amnesia

By Connor de Bruler

Crack, blam!

Where am I?

Most simple questions demand simple answers. There are few though, which have no concrete answer.

Who am I?

You aren’t going to be able to answer very many questions you ask yourself, because you do not know who or where you are. One assumption you might be making as of now is that you could be dead. This isn’t far from the truth. You’re not physically dead, but you no longer exist on this earth as the person you were. So by those figurative means, yes, you are dead. You have very few memories of who you were, the person the world had come to know, the person who is now dead. All you remember is a loud bang.

Why?

As of now it’s irrelevant why you’ve forgotten who you are. If the world has forgotten what difference does it make?

Can I wake up now?

I’d advise against it, but it’s not like you have control.

So I’m unconscious?

Yes.

When can I wake up?

It shouldn’t be too long. Perhaps in a few seconds.

Now…

Yes now!

With a sudden burst of adrenaline you wake up, but you feel as though you could still be unconscious because something isn’t right. You imagined seeing color and having calm soothing surroundings, but you don’t see anything. You fear you could be blind, but a sudden revelation opens up. You can make out the outline of your hand amidst the darkness. You’re not completely at ease though. There’s a throbbing pain in your forehead and you also feel as though you could be moving. You feel a constant vibration all around you.

Out of sheer desperation you extend your hands in an attempt to make sense of the surroundings that your other senses failed to interpret. Your hand doesn’t need to extend very far until it hits something. You immediately recognize it as wood, and to your dismay you realize you are inside a coffin.

Why the hell am I in here?

You’re never going to figure that one out.

In a fit of anger and fear you begin to beat your fist against the lid. You also yell for help.

-- Get me out of here! I’m alive.

No, you’re dead. As good as dead at least.

-- I want out!

You’re afraid that you’ve already been buried for a brief moment, but that scenario can not be. You’re eyes are adjusting to the darkness and as you beat the lid of the flimsy wooden casket you realize that some light is coming through.

Yes, there is still some hope. Just push harder.

You can almost see your legs now. You push the lid with your hands and feet, and finally it bursts open with a crunch of the thin wood. The sensation that you were moving now has an explanation. You are in the back of a moving vehicle. No, not a hearse, if you were in a hearse you would have been in a much nicer, much harder to pry open coffin. You’re in the back of a pickup truck moving along a rocky unfamiliar road. It is beginning to rain.

You get the impression that something sinister is taking place.

Yeah, you’re on the right track so far.

The two men driving the puttering old pickup begin to speak.

-- Did you here anything?

-- No, why? Should I have heard something?

-- I thought I heard him moving around or something moving around.

-- We shot him in the head Mick.

Mick turns to look at you, you both make eye contact.

-- Shit, Johnny, he’s alive! Stop the truck!

You realize it’s time to run, but you’re feeling to weak.

The car jerks to a stop and you are flung out onto the muddy road. Feeling a pain in your back and being cut by several jagged rocks, you stagger to stand but…

Bang!

Bang!

Two bullets meet your back, and you fall face first into the mud.

Crack!

He pulls the trigger back, and one last bullet meets your cranium and…

-- So long for good pal.

…is the last thing you hear.

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