Amnesia

By Niles Christensen

I remember that fateful day. I had climbed into my family’s brand new, silver Mercedes. Things had been going so well. My mom and my dad had decided to take my sister and I to San Francisco to see a Giants game. My dad was driving, my mom was sleeping, my baby sister, Rose, was happily gurgling, and I was absentmindedly admiring a brick wall covered with a blanket of vines that ran alongside us. Then it happened. A chorus of horns announced that an insane driver in an old, beaten up Volkswagen had decided to drive in the oncoming lane. Things then seemed to go in slow motion. My dad was terrified, my mom, suddenly awake, was screaming, Rose simply seemed curious, and I sat up straight, petrified. The driver was going to cause a head-on collision! I saw the Volkswagen hit the hood of our car, looking to be going very slowly, causing the front of both of our cars to crumple. There was a cacophony of screams, flying sparks, a vivid splash of red, and then, darkness.

When I woke up, I was in a scratchy bed, with dirty pieces of straw sticking out at misshapen angles. I was in a wooden house that smelled like a barn, surrounded by odd-looking people, wearing dirty clothing, made of cloth. They were all looking at me excitedly, whispering to each other “He’s waking up!” My leg felt like the bone had shattered, I was covered in scrapes and bruises, and I had a migraine beyond compare. I groggily inquired,” Where am I?”

In a joking tone, someone replied, “Where do you think? You’re in London, year 1625. You were in a carriage accident.” Upon hearing this, I promptly fainted