A Story by WeatherTattoo

A man wakes from his coma after a fatal car accident with no memory prior to the accident. As he regains his memory, he notices a strange anonymous man seemingly stalking him.


“My educated guess, after examining the trauma tests and conducting basic reflex and conscious checks, I’d say dissociative or functional amnesia. The damage breakdown: minor injury to the left cerebrum, very minimal impact on the right, possible impairment of the temporal lobes, unsure of the severity and functions affected, hippocampus seemingly untouched, minor hip fracture, large cut on his upper cheek. There’s a high change of an inability to recall any information from before the act, partial memory recovery isn’t guaranteed, but can be suggested as possible. If suffering fugue state, lasting only a few days, therapy should be advised for underlying PTSD and depression indicators.”


“OK Doctor. Also, an anonymous box of flowers arrived, with a room number on the card but no name to whom or from. Strange, seeming no relatives have rolled in yet.”


“Mhm roses, how beautiful. Place them on his bedside table. Oh and can someone please find out who this fellow is before he wakes up and expects us to know the answer?”



My mind was soundless. White specks blinked like car indicators on a black screen behind my eyelids as the ceiling lights flickered above my face. One by one, my toes gained consciousness, tingling and piercing themselves awake. It felt like my limbs weren’t my own, controlling and contracting themselves in an un-rhythmical manner.


          “He’s awake! Quickly, Doctor, his eyes and feet are twitching!”


Who’s awake? I wondered. Surely they wouldn’t be surprised that I am, seeing as I’m obviously wide awake and conscious.


          “Did you hear about that patient a week ago, Doctor?”


It was obvious I was conscious, but my body was not yet responding, or else they would have known I was fully aware of my surroundings.


“Underwent knee surgery, but the sedative didn’t knock him out. Poor man was awake the entire procedure and couldn’t move a muscle, or speak up!”


I felt someone roughly grip my wrist and read out some numbers, unbeknown to me what the heck they meant. I couldn’t help but feel as helpless as the man the lady was just discussing. As I listened to them tap their feet on the hard lino floor and chat about nonsense, I managed to gain control over my tongue, licking my salty dry lips in thirst. I carefully peeled my eyelids open, revealing a blurred image of an awful yellow painted room and two figures dressed in pure white, staring at me silently, with wide eyes like a deer in headlights.


          “Oh my goodness, dear boy, you’re awake!” The tall white figure exclaimed.

          “Quick, nurse, please get the picture cards and a big glass of water for the boy, I need to do some critical post-conscious tests to determine the severity of the damage to his brain.”


The lady shuffled off in a hurry, her shoes tapping an irritatingly sharp, loud beat.


          “There isn’t anything wrong with my brain, actually.”


I surprised myself with the volume of my voice, not expecting the words in my head to actually be vocalised, let alone shouted at the man, who was now staring down at me like a hawk with a concerned look on his face.


“Hello, Mr, uhm. You have just regained consciousness after surviving what could have been a fatal car crash.”


He looked down at his papers, flicking through them as if what he was looking for wasn’t there.


“I’m your Doctor, my name is Reginald. How are you feeling? Would you be able to respond to a few simple questions and prompts to aid us while we try to interpret any damage or possible risks to your short or long term health and stability?”


The doctor paused and stared into my eyes, which were still a little foggy. My fingers twitched uncontrollably as I shifted upwards and blinked the sleep in my eyes away. I replied, much quieter;


          “Yes, ok. I’m ok.”


He seemed relieved that I hadn’t shouted my response this time, and truthfully, I was too. The nurse fumbled back in, holding a stack of plastic cards with simplistic words and pictures on them. She handed them to Reginald, glanced at me, and hurriedly paced back out the room.


“Now look, some of these questions, pictures and prompts may either be confusing, ridiculous or seem like I’m wasting your time. I can assure you I’m not, and all information shared in this room is highly confidential and used for your own benefit only. Please bear with me, some of these may be overly simplistic questions and pictures, but they are completely necessary to determine underlying issues and severities, as I explained before.”


Reginald paused, waiting for a response, so I nodded readily, prompting him to get on with it. While he awkwardly sorted the cards in his wrinkled hands, I inspected the room surrounding me. It was quite small and cluttered with medicine cabinets and equipment. Stethoscopes and other utensils were scattered in bags on the shelf of the open cupboard on the other side of the room. There was a cold, stale aura that hung in the air like a cloud. I guessed they had tried to brighten the mood with a mustard yellow wall theme, which didn’t grow on you like new foods or smells, it was still horrible. The Doctor forced a cough, snapping me out of my daze.


          “Ok. Here we go!”


He stiffly held his arm up, holding a card with a picture of a bird and waited patiently. Surprised at the simplicity of the card, disregarding what he had previously said about the importance of these cards, I scoffed;


          “It’s a bird?”


Smiling, he ignored the foolish look on my face and flicked up multiple cards, one after the other.


          “Dog, fish, house, bowl, fork, ant, clock, bed, candle.”


He flicked the cards away all at once, smirking like he was relieved by the results. Pulling out another bunch of cards, he said;

“Well done, now, if you could please read these words out for me and in a few words, explain what that word means to you, or how it relates to you. Take as long as you need, and don’t be distressed if you cannot answer any.”


I chuckled to myself, lingering on his last comment. If the cards were as simple as the previous bunch, I’d have to be completely daft to not have the answer to his second grade questions. Flicking the cards out one by one like the previous, I responded to each accordingly.


          “Car: vehicle that I apparently crashed.”


I began laughing at my sore attempt to make a joke out of something serious, I caught his attention, thinking that he’d ask me to be more mature. Instead, he smiled generously and flicked to the next card.


          “Music: something you sing to, sounds nice.

          Grass: on the ground, grows in dirt.

          House: a place where you live.

          Hands: I have two

          Religion: not interested.

          Coffee: caffeine, bad for you, but so tasty.



As the word rolled off my tongue, I paused and my mind pulsed. The strangest feeling overcame my body as electric currents zipped around my brain searching for a piece of information that I did not know or remember. The Doctor placed the card down on his lap, seeing that I was distressed. I could feel his concerned glare heating my face and grabbed the glass of water beside me, dribbling it all over my collar as I tipped into my parched mouth.


          “Identity: name… me… identity… my name… I am… who am I…”


Tears streamed down my cheeks and dropped inaudibly into my open, sweaty palms. My fists clenched in frustration, anger and sorrow. Why couldn’t I say my name? What was my name? Why can’t I remember my name! Who am I! I started howling in anger with myself, unfortunately frightening the Doctor who had quickly shot upright and was now standing beside a window on the far side of the room, patiently waiting for me to calm down, as if I were going to. It was the simplest thing that I must have assumed was in my vocabulary, or at least readily available in my memory bank.


After about 5 minutes, I opened my eyes and found myself curled up on the floor. My face was dry and stiff from dried salty tears and my hands had ripped my hair from the roots. The room was silent, and I was completely alone as it seemed. I found my feet and leant against the window sill, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight beaming through the glass. Immediately learning that I was far from the ground floor, I gripped the sill with my other hand in attempt to stop my head spinning. In the car park 100 meters from the building, people walked routinely back and to their vehicles. I gazed past the asphalt towards the lake, another 300 meters from the car park. Children were dancing about throwing what looked like bread chunks in the water to the ducks, speedily skimming across the water in all directions. As I scaled my gaze back from the lake and across the car park, I noticed a man standing completely still beside a large, green 4WD. Suddenly, he jolted his head around and looked directly at my window, almost catching my eyesight, blankly staring. We shared eye contact, if it was possible for him to see my face from such a height, for no more than 30 seconds before I walked backwards, spooked and afraid. Still looking ahead, I stumbled and turned around, realizing I had walked into the Doctor.

“Hello sir. I see you’re up, and have calmed. Are you feeling OK? I’ve asked the nurse to bring you another glass of water and some dry toast. Dinner will be more appetising, I promise.”


As he finished his sentence, my senses heightened and I could smell stale, burnt toast lingering through the corridors, tainting each room. I wondered how long they thought I would stay in this place, or where I would go if I left. I stood in place momentarily, pondering on all the questions I could not answer for myself as the Doctor continued talking.


“The Police are here at the moment and they would like to speak to you if that’s OK. I’m not sure what it’s about, but if you feel uncomfortable or you want them to leave just say so, I’ve let them know of your current unstable condition.”


He grabbed a few papers from the cupboard as the door squeaked open with a Police Officer tightly grasping the door handle, fully extending his arm. As they exchanged glances I sat on the bed and toyed with the frayed linen that had been tucked under the pillow. The Police Officer dragged his heavy boots around to the side of the bed I was dangling my feet from, and introduced himself.


“Gary’s the name. How are you holding up, sir? I know you had a pretty stressful accident a few months ago, must be hard trying to get yourself back into order. I just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind me asking.”


A few months, I thought. Why hadn’t the Doctor or anyone mentioned anything to me? I silently stared at the wall in complete shock that I had only just woken up, after a few months of being knocked unconscious in a car accident.


          “Okay so,” The man continued, disregarding my clear disorientation

          “Can you remember anything about the incident, or possibly before and after the incident occurs?”


I focused on the man intently, in confusion and frustration that again, I could not answer a simplistic question of ‘what happened’.


“Look, I don’t even know what my f*****g name is alright. I think you should leave me alone, I’m no help to you. I can tell you about as much as the bloody car can.”


The Officer seemed offended and shocked. What the hell did he expect to find, a perfectly able mind? Perhaps my brain was supposed to fix itself in those couple of months, but instead it just floated in its juices and rotted. I kept eye contact with the man until he realized I wasn’t going to be much help and he slowly pivoted and walked with outstanding posture, straight out the door.


The clock on the wall was ticking away, echoing quietly in the back of my eardrums. Respectfully, Dr Reginald looked at me with understanding, having obviously overheard the short, distasteful conversation between myself and the uninformed Police Officer. He sat beside me, breaking the silence.


“Look, I can understand how frustrated you must be right now, and we do not expect you to be all happy as larry within a short period of time, and neither should you! Memory loss, no matter how severe, can take time to fully recover. We still have no knowledge of your identity, age or any personal details. If you are willing to work with us, we can help you work towards regaining if not some but all of your memory, but remember we cannot promise anything.”


I liked Reginald, although I barely knew him, I didn’t even know myself. By his tone, it was obvious his empathy was real, like he’d taken me under his wing.


          “So where do I go from here?” I slowly asked,

          “How long will I have to stay here? Will you be able to find out who I, well you know, all of that useless information. And who the hell sent me roses? Has anyone contacted you about me?”


The Doctor glanced briefly at the flowers, disinterested, and responded.


“No idea where the flowers came from. Just had this room number on it, from anonymous. Eerie if you ask me.” He chuckled nervously,

“We can offer you supported accommodation not far from here, on one account. You must attend weekly psychiatrist meetings for regular psychotherapy, to support you to regain your memory. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, we cannot promise that this will be effective enough for you to regain all of your memory, or how long it will take. Some of our patient have been going to meetings for years, with little progress, but something is better than nothing.”


He stopped and looked straight into my eyes, a mix of confusion, hope and sadness stirred through his glassy retina.


“You just have to try, mate. You may feel that you’ve lost yourself, but I cannot explain the sense of loss you will truly feel if you don’t try.”

© 2012 WeatherTattoo

Author's Note

Hello everyone. This is the first of many chapters to come, let us know what you think and if you have any ideas etc, any feedback would be much appreciated! Sam and Ben

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This has really inspired me to write something tonight, this was great. Thank you!

Posted 10 Years Ago

Wow. Not remebering your name would be really fustrating and I think you showed that very well. This whole story was absolutly amazing (: Glad I stopped by to read this

Posted 10 Years Ago


10 Years Ago

Thanks for taking the time to read! This is only one of many chapters to come and we're working on t.. read more

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2 Reviews
Added on October 19, 2012
Last Updated on October 19, 2012
Tags: brain injury, memory loss, car accident, therapy, stalker, mystery, identity, forget, confused



Adelaide, Australia

Ben: 20, M Employed in the Disability industry. Part-time musician. Likes cats, guitars, horror movies, fizzers and video games/LAN. Very creative. Sam: 18, F Employed in the Disability industry... more..