amnesia - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There were times Amelia would wish for selective amnesia. She wanted to forget how Xander looked when he was angry, forget the words he swore he never meant to say. She wanted to go back to how she felt before - safe and loved. Yet the memories persisted, dormant until a trigger and then the panic would start, soft at first. Her chest would become a little tighter, breathing more difficult and she would crave solitude. In between his anger he was so beautiful, so mesmerizing. She wanted to drink in his smile, bask in his eyes, feel his hands over her body... until now. Now she feared what could come next, what words might come from his mouth to slice, to cut her naked skin. With amnesia she could just go back, almost as good as a time machine, and just enjoy the parts of him that held her heart so captivated.
My clothes aren't right and I don't know this room. It looks like a hospital, a nice one. There are flowers, clean sheets and soft music playing. As I go to leave the bed an alarm sounds and in comes a nurse.
"Angeline, there you are. Remember me? Nurse Nicola?" I shake my head. She isn't the least bit familiar. Her smile falters a little. "You need the washroom? Come now."
I shake my arm. "Get off. I don't know you. Don't touch me. I'm leaving." She isn't surprised. Quite the contrary. She wears an expression that says she's heard all this before and a level of confidence that suggests she knows what to do and say next.
The amnesia Emma had wasn't cute or romantic like in the movies. She couldn't recall many words, or how to read. She was scared of people who loved her, unable to deal with the intensity of their emotions. Most of the time she felt lost with not a single place feeling like home, not a voice to cradle her mind in familiar sounds, or a set of warm hands she would let hold her own.
Mac rose unsteadily to his feet, it was against doctors orders to be moving right now but he needed the washroom and he'd have to have both legs broken before he'd ask for assistance with that...He was startled to see a face glaring back that was more purple than any other colour. On impulse he reached for his gun, absent of course, and he felt foolish in his hospital gown. it was of course a mirror and his own beleaguered features staring back through swollen eyes. Between the wallops given by steel capped shoes his skin was simply grey. His nose was a new shape entirely and his head lumpy and mis-shaped. He tried to recall what had lead to this, how was it he was here and in this state. His last memory was of his wife kissing him before work. Then he noticed his hair, grey. Why was it grey? Nothing was making any sense and now he felt sick. Where was Rebecca, why wasn't she here to explain it all, to shower him in kisses and talk about her latest book?
Where there should be memories is blank space, like a soft beige wall bereft of photographs. The man who visits daily is so kind, he tells me about some children and sometimes they come too. "Mommy," they say and hold my hands. I smile, they are so cute. Yesterday I remembered their names and the man cried, I didn't have the heart to tell him that the nurse reminded me before they came in. Tomorrow he's taking me home. Apparently we're married, fancy that, me -a bride! When did that ever happen? Last I recall it was prom night and I was dancing with that spotty boy no-one else would take. I want to please them, recall something, but it just isn't there. It's so odd, they know me so well and I can't return the favour. Every time he comes it's like meeting someone in a bank who grins and waves and you can't place them at all. I've known these folks for a week and now I'm off to live with them. The kids don't even look like me; I must be a big pool or recessive genes. How odd that the university education is still crammed in there and they aren't even ghosts, you'd think the brain might prioritize better.
It was chaos in my head; I did not know where I was. How did I get there? What to do? Where to go? I only heard a voice in my head...a word..."Amnesia." Sadly, I didn't understand. My memory was blurred, the past a fading dream and nothing to prove if it was real. I did not know anything and sat there all alone...with no hope... nothing but sadness and confusion to live with.
Susan stares at the handsome visitor, so good of him to come to see her so often. Today he has photographs, pictures of a young woman and man years ago, wedding pictures, babies, children. As the glossy images pass through her fingers he glances at her, anxious for recognition that never comes. She likes him, wants to please him, so she says "Thank-you so much, I enjoyed those. It's so good of your wife to let you see me so often. Such nice pictures. You said you're married?" At that the man cries, face buckled like a toddler lost in a crowd.
Tia walks into the house, her parents right behind with her hospital bag and flowers. Her face smiles at her from the walls, apparently the eldest child of these two middle aged people. There are trophies for athletics and a small poodle who greets her with enthusiasm. From the kitchen comes an old woman, one who visited her in the hospital many times, "Here comes my favourite granddaughter!"
Amnesia. It ruined their lives. Emily's life. She would quite often stare at the wall, wondering what her name was. The nurses would remind her. Ghosts of the past would enter the room showing her photographs and pictures in frames. Emily would smile at them and ask who they were. The people looked like a family.
A girl always came in, who Emily thought looked familiar. The girl would talk to Emily. And Emily, every time, would ask who the girl was. And the girl, every time Emily said that, would burst into tears. What she had done to upset the girl, Emily did not know. It was a week later when a nurse explained to Emily the girl was her twin sister. Emily didn't remember which girl the nurse was talking about. Emily was lost. In a foggy world. Mystical and magical. But it was bad. Emily was lost in a horrible place. A place of dreams and secrets and lies. A place where memories would haunt her and the people who used to love her would frighten the life out of her. Often, Emily would stare silently, everything else gone. Everything else would disappear. The hospital, nurses, everything.
"Who are you?" Marie asks. I hear the fear in her voice as it rises. Her hands are shaking and her eyes - wide, dull orbs of the ocean incased - I watch as I pull the camera from my coat pocket. I can feel my own hands shaking as I place the small, yet memorable object in her aging hands. I watch the way her wrinkled hands glide over the buttons, a wide grin alighting her face. I watch as she flips through the memories - holidays, birthdays, and recitals - and when she comes to the last picture her finger runs lightly across the screen lovingly.
I know what picture she is looking at. My heart beats a little faster as hope blooms in my chest. Maybe she will remember me this time.
"You must be Nancy." My heart jolts in pain, and I shake my head.
"No, I'm not Nancy." I whisper, grabbing her free hand in my own. She stares at our enlaced hands in confusion, yet doesn't pull away. "Its me, mom."