A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

Shock Wave: Part 8- Death on the Couch


Photo by Mike Savad

Catch up before you continue on with the story.

A few weeks had passed since she wandered out of the woods and entered in to the wooden house. A local doctor called by her husband had come by to stitch up her small head wound and she had spent all of her free time trying to remember her life before the day she woke up in the middle of the forest.

She hadn’t connected with her husband James since she first walked through the front door. There were no feelings of intimacy or affection for this strange man and, frankly, she wasn’t even sure if she liked him as a person. She did, however, try her best to fix the situation by just going with everything, but the line was drawn when conversation about their love life turned into attempted action in the bedroom.

“I can’t do it,” Sarah said worriedly as she covered her bare body with bed sheets. “I can do this with you like this with my head all screwed up. I don’t remember anything at all and I feel like I never will. I don’t think this is working out.”

“Okay,” James said turning onto his back and shuffling around the covers of the bed. “I suppose this isn’t working out very well. I guess we can try having you go see a shrink.”

“I don’t think I need a shrink. I think I just need to go away for a while.”

“Well the last time you said that you were gone for a day and came back with no memory and your head nearly bashed in.”

“It was a small little scrape, and I have no clue how that really went down. To be honest, I don’t even know how that it could have happened. Shouldn’t my memory have start coming back by now?” She looked into James eyes. “This is my house right?”

“Haha, of course it is, didn’t you see all of the pictures and trinkets and things? This is your house and your life, and I’m your husband that you chose to marry.”

“I just don’t feel like any of this is me. I don’t know what it is, but something’s not quite right.”

“Let’s just go set up an appointment with the shrink tomorrow. You have no memory of anything anyway, so it can’t hurt.”

Sarah turned onto her back to match the bare bodied stranger lying in the bed next to her. She supposed it couldn’t really hurt to lie down on the shrink’s couch. She already felt as though whatever life she had lived had died with the fall in the woods.

Read the story, “Shock Wave,” every Wednesday.

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