John slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. He yawned mightily and stretched his arms wide as he struggled to rise from his warm bed. He glanced at his alarm clock and smirked as he once again woke before the alarm went off. He flicked the tiny switch on the side of the device and listened to the voices of the morning announcers talking about the days events. John scratched his butt cheek as he shambled into the bathroom. “…so okay folks, don’t forget. Today is the day we all pay tribute to our glorious leader, Emperor Trump!” Said a deep gravely voice.
“THat’s right my fellow Americans. Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree, flag the new flag and make sure you are near. a television this evening at 6pm local time.” John jolted out of the bathroom, eyes wide, white foam dripping from his lips. “Emperor Trump? Emperor? New flag?” What the hell is that about? John thought. Maybe it’s someone’s idea of a joke. He turned off the radio and jumped in the shower. Two hours later John walked into the short non-description office building, oblivious to the red, white and black flag flying from the flagpole. The elevator dinged and doors slide open as John hurried out and navigated his way to his desk.
“John? What are you doing here?” John’s head shot up as he spied his boss, Bill Corder, moving towards him. Bill looked furious as he huffed and puffed his way through the cubicles. John glanced at this watch just making sure he wasn’t late. “What’re you talking about? I work here. I’ve got a deadline coming up and I’m pretty busy, Bill.” “Uh, no you don’t!” JOhn looked at his boss quizzically. “What’re you talking about? I don’t what? Have a deadline or a job?” “Both! You quit three months ago. In fact, how did you get in here?” Bill glanced around for one of the newly installed security guards. He spied the tall, burly man standing near the emergency exit and started waving wildly and pointing at John. “Bill, what are you talking about? of course I work here. I’ve worked here for eight years and I’m pretty busy…”. John’s voice trailed off as he neared his cubicle and suddenly noticed that he didn’t recognize the faces staring at him. “Where’s Sarah?” He asked to the nearest stranger. “Who’s Sarah?” John’s eyes spun about and he blinked rapidly. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow and he vaguely started to notice his hands and feet getting clammy. Suddenly a strange anthem of music started playing on the speakers mounted on the walls. Everyone rose and turned towards the windows and placed their hands across their chests. John turned about and saw Bill following suit.
“Bill, what is going on..” “Shut up John, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” “Bill, what the FU-“ “Sir, I need you to come with me.” A deep voice boomed from behind the men. John spun around while Bill stayed motionless. The security guard reached out and grasped John’s upper arm in a vice like grip. John spotted a strange flag on the man’s uniform and some strange writing below it. “NO! GET OFF ME! “. John tried to break free from the man’s grip. The guard scowled and pulled his firearm from the holster on his hip. Without a missing a beat the guard pointed it at John and pulled the hammer back with his thumb.
“One.” He growled. John saw the gun and began to struggle harder. “Two.” The guard said low. Tears began to stream down John’s face as the thought of defeat entered his brain. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?” JOhn bellowed to the hundred eyes watching his execution. “You disrespected Emperor Trump’s National Anthem and you are trespassing.” The guard said forcefully. “Don’t you mean President Trump?” John said rhetorically. The guards eyebrows furrowed, as he cocked his head slowly to the side. “He hasn’t been President for almost a year. Did you suffer a traumatic brain injury.” The guards grip lessened. “Did you!?!” John sensed his chance and jerked his arm free. He spun about and started running for the exit. He heard his heart pounding in his ears as pieces of the wall next to his head exploded. He ducked and dove for the door. His body slammed into the door. He reached up and fumbled with he handle and as he struggled the hulking guard appeared from behind him. John thought he was home free just as the first bullet punctured his back and travelled through his spine and into his heart killing him instantly. His body fell to the ground as blood poured forth. The security guard pushed JOhn’s body away from the doorway and carefully reloaded his sidearm. He jammed it into the holster and spun about to face the office workers. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call housekeeping staff.” Bill mumbled as he hurried off to the safety of his office.

One. Blink.

“Hello?”

Two. Breathe.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

One. Blink.

“What… where… where am I?” I said, a slight choke could be heard in my voice. Where was I? Everything was black. There was nothing. Nothing but pain.

My eyes felt as if they were being ripped from my skull. I opened my mouth to call for help again but the only thing that came out was a scream. Tears caressed my cheeks, and sweat flowed down the back of my neck. My mouth tasted metallic and sticky, almost certainly blood… the only question was from where.

Two. Breathe.

I managed to open my eyes. I expected a piercing light to enter but the only thing visible was darkness. Who am I? Where did I come from? My eye began to settle, allowing a flood of thoughts to enter my mind. Why am I here? Why can’t I remember anything?

I felt around my surroundings… there felt to be a table with sharp tools, a counter with what I presume are latex gloves, and what seems to be a chair… though it has an odd shape and metal pieces connected to it. I wave my hands out in front of me as I walk around, feeling all the surfaces around me. Door. I checked the handle, but it’s locked. I make my way back to the counter and run my fingers across the cool surface until I slice my finger on what felt to be a scalpel. I jolt my hand back in pain and suck on my finger. Definitely blood.

One. Blink.

I continued to brush up against the side of the wall, looking for anything different. Something pokes my side as I’m walking along, and my fingers feel the familiar shape of a light switch. I excitedly flip it on and the fluorescent lighting shoots a bullet through my skull, almost a cruel joke from what i predicted earlier. Everything was spinning. Black and White flickers clouded my vision as I struggled to breathe through the damp, lingering air.

An indescribable smell hangs in the air… one I remember. Surgery. I remember. Surgery.

Two. Breathe.

Blood. Everything, everywhere. Blood. So much of it. I retched all over the white ceramic tile, shielding up what’s left of its glossy texture. What the blood didn’t cover my vomit did. The wallpaper was stained red and the sharp tools, which were operating equipment, were bathed in the sticky red substance. The chair I earlier felt earlier appears a dentist chair and is located in the center of the room. The chair is the most normal thing in the room, apart from the metal restraints that appear towards the bottom, middle, top and sides. It seems as if it was the only thing bothered to be cleaned.

One. Blink.

The locked door bursts open. “SHIT!” Panics a man dressed in white scrubs. Another man grabs one of the ominous sharp tools— a syringe— and stabs me in the side. I can feel the liquid injected into my body spreading, branching off through my veins like a cascade of agony. I flail my limbs in an attempt to stop the two men from grabbing me… but everything is fading…

Darkness.

“How was she thinking still?” Said a voice from somewhere in the room.

“We’ve already removed half of it. I don’t know what else we can do, sir.” I heard, still regaining consciousness.

“Take it all out. Move directly into phase 11. She isn’t progressing like I thought she would.”

“Yes sir, we will start right away.”

The door slams and I can hear footsteps move away from the door.

Where am I? Am I still in this hell-hole? I try moving, but I’m stuck. Trapped. My ankles, waist, neck, and wrist are held tightly to a chair. I try to scream but nothing comes out, just a dry rasp.

Two. Breathe.

Suddenly, I can hear a whirring noise from behind me. A saw. I sit helplessly as I feel the rotating metal enter slowly into My skull. An agonizing, tortuous pain fills my entire body. I pray for death, but for some reason, I know it won’t come.

Darkness.

“It’s done sir, we’ve fully removed it, as well as a prototype replacement. It should finally start functioning properly.”

“Perfect. Follow me to my office”

A creak of the door sounds and a train of footsteps carries away my last breath of hope.

One. Blink

Two. Breathe.

One. Blink.

With my eyes still closed, I become conscious again. Something holds my tight.

My sore eyes open. I look up at this stranger. His ocean eyes gaze

Softly at me. My head pounded and I cried out in pain. I brought my

hands to my head and felt a wet substance. I knew it was blood. What was

going on? Where even was I? I gazed at the man. He started speaking,

“Carley, It’s ok. They are coming to help you. Please just stay with me.”

I opened my mouth. I meant to talk to this man. But a scream escaped.

I don’t know why I screamed. It could have been cause I didn’t know him.

My ears started to ring. Then I heard the sirens. I was getting some help.

I don’t know what time it is. I step outside onto my endearingly decorated porch in the cold, brisk air, and that tells me that it’s morning. I reach into my back pocket to find it vacant, then tap the rest of my pockets, searching. Where the hell is my phone? Maybe it can give me a clue or tell me anything that’s happened this past year. Let me backtrack and give you a little explanation:

  Today I woke up on the floor of my spacious, blue bedroom soaked in sweat. I can’t believe I painted my room blue. Why would I do that? I hate blue. The last thing I remember was the New Year’s Eve party at my boyfriends sisters house. According to the puppy themed calendar on my fridge, that was one year ago, exactly. Today is New Years. 

 I swung open my blue painted door (why the fuck is everything blue?!) and waltzed back inside. I veer left, taking a sharp turn down the hallway and towards my room. Thank God I still know where that is. I start to inspect my room for clues, anything I can find that will tell me what I’ve missed. I open the top drawer on my dresser where I keep all of my important documents to see if there’s anything in there. The first thing I see is the title to my car in my name, but it’s not my car, it’s a Supra. I have a Supra now?! 

  After searching for a while longer and finding no other hints or indications as to what I’ve been doing this past year, I give up and go to the kitchen to make some peppermint tea. This is making me anxious. As I put the kettle on I hear keys jingle from outside, and the doorknob starts to move. What the hell? I live alone. I grab a kitchen knife from a drawer. Maybe someone stole my keys so they could come in and kidnap me. The door swings open, and a handsome, six foot something man with dark hair sporting a baby blue shirt, the color of everything In my house, stands at the entrance holding a pack of white claws. I’ve never seen this man before. 

  “Baby, I’m home!” He proclaims. Baby?! 
   
   He then takes in my appearance, my aggressive stance and my holding of the sharpest kitchen knife in the house. 

  “Why the hell are you holding a kitchen knife?” 


   “Because I live alone. Who the hell are you? This morning I woke up with absolutely no recollection of the past year and I’m confused to no end. And baby? What happened to my boyfriend James…?” I question sadly. I loved James. 

  “Oh honey, memory loss is common when dealing with a new trauma. And James is your ex boyfriend. He had a wife and kids the whole time he was dating you, told me during our therapy session.” He said sweetly. 

  “I’m dating my fucking therapist?! Oh god. What have I done.” I groaned 




                            The End

Does anybody really remember anything? What actually happened to them in a certain situation, or is it more like we guess? When your classmate is recounting a time they went to Cape Cod and got stung by a jellyfish, well how much of that story is real? When you're in a heated argument with your parent about how neglectful they were, but hell, they remember it differently. Who is right? Who knows the truth? Does anyone really know the truth?

Devon slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times. It was blurry and there was a faint beeping sound in the background. “Devon? Honey, I’m here,” a woman said softly. Devon tried to remember who the voice belonged to. He couldn’t remember the people in his life. All of the sudden he could see little moments in his life, but they seemed outdated. He’d been to Australia and visited the Kangaroos. He saw the rodeo at stampede in Alberta. He graduated high school, no one was there for him. “Devon, wake up, please,” he heard. Devon’s vision cleared up, and he saw the woman. She was a tall brunette with layers throughout her hair. Her eyes were a blue-green colour that he’d never seen before. Or had he? “Who are you? Where am I? What happened to me?” Devon, I’m your girlfriend, Amara. You’re at the hospital, there was an accident…” she trailed off. “What kind of accident?” He asked. His eyebrows lifted, and he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. “I don’t know if I should say,” Amara told him softly. “Amara, I need to know what’s going on!” Devon said loudly. He was growing impatient. “Well,” she started. “This whole thing began when you got into a professional bowling league…” “You we’re so excited about finally being apart of a team. Plus you’d found a hobby that wasn’t so dangerous, and wasn’t far from home. You like travelling a lot, but it gets hard to be away. Anyway, in your first tournament of the season, you blew everyone away with your incredible skills. Everyone was really proud of you Devon. So they made you their bowling team captain. You were up to the challenge, of course. As captain, you wanted to make sure that everyone was bonded as a group. Connections are important to you. So, you took the group on a ski trip, to Motherlode Chair at the Red Mountain Resort in Rossland, BC. It’s one of the most intense and steep places to ski in all of Canada. The others were a bit skeptical, but you were so excited for a thrilling new adventure. If only we new what was about to happen.” “I don’t remember any of this,” Devon mumbled. “How long have I been here, in the hospital?” “A year. You were in a coma.” A year?” Devon exclaimed. “What about my family? The last thing I remember was going up the ski lift on that trip. I need to know what happened.” “Okay Devon, I’ll tell you. So you and your team headed up the ski lift. Everyone was a bit on edge, but Andy was especially nervous. You kept telling him that it would be fine. It took a lot of persuasion to get Andy up on that lift. By the time the group was up top, you practically had to push him down. Anyway, everyone was having a good time. After the first few runs, nobody was too nervous anymore. Andy was the only one who was too scared to enjoy himself. You told him that bonding as a group was important. You told him that he couldn’t quit, no matter how bad he wanted to. You said that quitters and scaredy-cats weren’t allowed on the team, so he kept going.” “Amara, this doesn’t explain how I ended up in a coma. How do I even know you. You said your my girlfriend, but I don’t have one,” Devon told her, clearly confused. “Trust me, I’ll get to it. The last run of the day, you encouraged everyone to go as fast as possible, and try cool tricks. Andy wanted to prove himself to you, so he was the first to go. He was whipping down the hill, when he went off a bump and slid to the side. He hit a tree and landed face first in the snow. Everyone else was too busy heading down to notice he was gone. Luckily, you were behind and saw him out of the corner of your eye. He had suffocated and died in the snow before you could get to him.” Devon closed his eyes tightly. He felt afraid, he felt sad. “I can’t - I can’t believe that happened. H-h-how did this - it’s just unbelievable,” Devon stuttered, speechless. “That’s what I said when the police told me he was dead. And I knew exactly who’s fault it was!” Amara yelled angrily. “If it wasn’t for you, my husband wouldn’t have died!” “Amara, I thought you were my girlfriend,” Devon trembled. “Please. That was just a cover. You want to know the reason you’ve been in the hospital this long? It’s because I put you in the hospital. I waited every day for you to wake up, just so I could make you feel horrible about what you did, before I ended you once and for all. You are fully responsible for what happened to him out there, and I needed you to feel that guilt before I could avenge him.” “Amara, please. It was an accident. I would never want to hurt Andy,” Begged Devon. “It doesn’t matter how sorry you are, you still killed him. Now I’m going to kill you. Then Andy and I will laugh at you up from heaven. We’ll laugh while you burn in hell!”

“Ugh what day is it.” I horsely say, sitting up in my bed. The alarm clock to my left says 7:22 Am, almost ten minutes before it’s supposed to go off.

Ugh I guess it’s time to get up. My body hurts all over. What the heck did I do last night. I know I drink a bit but it’s never this much of a headache after.

Standing up from my bed I prepare for my day. Shower, get dressed, you know the works. My body is still completely sour though. My heads killing me.

Finally I head downstairs for some food and water. Breakfast? Yeah breakfast that’s what it’s called. But hey the water should help me feel better. Definitely looking forward to that.

I spot something odd in my kitchen when I get there. Namely a person. She’s a nice looking young lady standing ruffly 4 inches above me. What’s their name, I don’t know. Since they’re here so casually I guess I should pretend I do though.

“Hey buddy how you doing this morning.” I say. I can just hear how bleh I sound this morning.I can probably get away with calling out today.

Little ms big unknown lady turning to me with this look of both dear in headlights and oh my that’s my favourite celebrity. Truly a wonderful mix of faces. Then she smiles. Smiles like you would at a horde of puppies. Or being gifted a lot of things. Or I don’t know it’s a really pretty smile okay. And she speaks.

“Myra your awake,” as she trapes me in an embrace. “ oh Myra I thought you were gone and you wouldn’t comeback but you’re here. Your back again.”

“What the… get off of me.” I say pushing and ducking out of the hug. “Who are you I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“Come on Myra, it’s me, Sunny, you remember me right.” She says the smile not as there as it was.

“No, frankly I don’t. How do you even know my name.” Honestly she’s got some nerve. I probably just let her in for a night and now she thinks she knows me. I’m my own person and not dealing with someone like that.

“You really don’t remember me.” She’s starting to tear up now. Kinda pity inducing.

“No, I do not. Now are you staying going, are we having a little breakfast chat. What’s going on.”

“Myra you have to remember. You and I were paired up in one of our meetings, and you helped me with the… and then we went to dinner. Then I helped you with the thing.” Oh ooh crying, that’s not something I’m trained for. “Please Myra your the best person I’ve ever met you have to remember me.”

Wow that’s a lot of rambling. I did all of that with her in one night, dam. “Wait a minute what meetings.”

“What do you mean what meeting. Before the accident we would go every week.” She said. Still sniffling

“Wait ACCIDENT”

“Yeah you got a ride from your friend one night and you were upside down in the ditch in the morning.” Things are starting to click. “I don’t even want to think about that scene.”

“Umm Sunny you said your name was.” She turns to face me again. Lip quivering a little she nods. “What day is it.”

“April 17th why.” Oh my gosh it’s clicking. I grab her by the shoulders now to ask. “How long was I out.”

“About a month.” And it’s clicked. Kinda, my memories aren’t all there but that memory is how I know this girl.

“Sunny I am sorry for any and all things I’ve said this morning,”

“I accept” she says.

“I think I vaguely figured this out, but we have a lot to talk about.” I say.

“Okay.” She responded and together we walk off and settle for that chat.

I awoke with an intense pain in my neck and a pounding headache. As I stand up from the bed, my eyes follow the smears of dried blood on the chest of my shirt. My reflection catch’s my attention in the bedroom vanity. Bruises align my face to my collarbone. I audibly gasp and the man that I did not notice in the bed bed sits up, rubbing his eyes. Panicking, I quietly shuffle into the bathroom down the hallway, I close and lock the door. I don’t know where I am or whose house I am in. A knock on the door makes me squeal and I freeze, unable to make any response. “Are you okay?” A man asks. “I waited for you to come home last night. Your phone was off and I was worrying like hell.” What does he mean by “come home”? My mind begins brainstorming justification as to why I’m in this strangers house. The bedroom looked very feminine. Maybe he is mistaken me for his girlfriend? I open the door and the man looks at me like he has seen a ghost. We stand within a foot of each other without a word before he wraps his arms around me with a loud sob. “What happened to you last night? I need to take you to a hospital!” Agreeing that I need medical help, I follow the stranger to his Honda. Walking to the rdesk in the Emergency Room, still covered in blood, the receptionist asks me for my name with wide eyes. I hesitate, realizing I don’t know my name. “I don’t know,” I say as a matter of fact. The man behind me reaches for my shoulder with a surprise on his face. “Her name is Madeline.” He knows me. I tell him I don’t know who he is or what is happening and he orders me to sit down in the waiting room. I can faintly hear him talk to the receptionist. “Her name is Madeline. She came home late last night after a girls night out. I don’t know why she doesn’t remember her name. She looks like she was mugged and has a concussion.” I didn’t wait long to be ushered back to a room in a wheelchair. A nurse asks me to confirm my name and wraps a “fall risk” bracelet around my wrist. “Do you know where you are?” She asks with a concerning tone. I deny knowing where I am or my name. “What month is it?” She continues to ask questions. “March.” I respond. The man perks up from his chair, “Honey it’s February.” The nurse asks me what year it is and I answer “2012”. The nurse corrects me, “Darling it is 2013. Worst case scenario, you must have suffered a brain injury but with time your memory will resurface.” She shines a light into my eyes and explains that I will undergo tests by the doctors orders to find evidence of a concussion. Explaining that intense amnesia is usually not related to a brain injury, she consoles me that I will be taken care of. Hours later I am greeted by a man who introduces himself as a neurologist. His face is solemn as he explains my scans have shown severe brain death in my hippocampus. I lower my gaze in disbelief and focus on the ring on my finger. The doctor continues to explain to what I assume is my husband that I will be admitted for observation.

My mind snapped awake and my eyes scanned the dusty room. My brown hair fanned out behind me and my tanned wrists were pinned down to my sides. I had no idea where I was.

(Didn’t finish ugh).

Waking up in a hospital bed unable to move is never fun. That’s what happened to me. On October 14, 2032.

I don’t remember what happened at all. I just woke up In this hospital room. “Hello?” My voice is unrecognizable and barely audible against the loud aggressive beeping of the heart monitor next to me. I try again to move my arms but it’s impossible. The door across the room slides open to reveal a young lady around the age of 28 or so. She smiles at me and walks over. “Hello there, Melody! I’m Nurse Sandra. How are you feeling? It’s been a while hasn’t it?” She says as she checks my vitals. 

“I’m feeling awful. And what are you talking about? How long has it been? I don’t remember you at all. Or anything.” I say as I slowly turn my head in her direction. 

“It’s been a while. A year to be exact. You’ve been out since the incident.” Sandra says nonchalantly. 

“A year!? What?” I say with my extremely sore throat. She hums at my questions and helps me take some of what I assume is pain medication. 

“Yes. You’ve been in this coma for a whole year. I’ve been the main one looking after you. The incident caused you to go into one of the most extreme cases of comas possible.” Sandra stated as she helped me sit up. 

“What incident? I don’t remember.” I ask again trying to ignore my hurting and sore body. 

“You don’t remember that the city was almost destroyed by an unknown force?” She says with wide eyes. 

“What!?”