Amnesia
10 Apr 2019Today’s prompt: “You wake up by the side of the road lying next to a bicycle, with no memory and no wallet. What happens in the next hour?”
You’re face down in a ditch, dirt crusting your lips, deep scratches on your arms. You stand up gingerly and are about to dust off your clothes when you notice the paper curled into your hand.
It says, “Go anywhere but here.”
Where’s “here”? What does it mean? And who are you? How did you get here?
You clean yourself up as best you can, checking yourself for injuries and debris. You check your pocket for a wallet or id. Nothing. You check the ground around you. Nothing but a lone bicycle, a little the worse for wear but still rideable.
Somebody must have hit you. And now you can’t remember anything. It’s like you’re in a soap opera, except you skipped the coma and the hospital bed.
You’ve got to get help, but you don’t have a phone. All you’ve got is this bicycle. Best to start riding to the nearest house. Maybe they can get you to a hospital, or even jog your memory.
You pick a direction and start riding. You realize after a few minutes that your legs aren’t stiff. You can’t have ridden too long before your accident. There must be a house or something near where you woke up. It might even be past that hill.
You downshift the bike and make your way uphill. As you crest it, a house rises before you. You coast into the driveway, prop up the bike on its kickstand, and knock on the door.
A woman in a long black robe and black hood answers the door, then grows wide-eyed. “You were supposed to get out!” she whispers. “I told you. Anywhere but here.”
“Who is it, honey?” a voice calls out behind her. Footsteps approach. A man in a similar robe and hood appears. “Well, look who it is. You escape, and then you show right up on my doorstep. It’s like the Necronomicon says: The Dread Lord provides. The sacrifice is on!” He grabs you and carries you down to the sacrificial chamber.