When I finally got my mental faculties back, I felt perplexed as to why I was in a hospital. It was as if they had wiped all of my memories of the past forty minutes clean. I had always been in the hospital, as far as I was concerned.
Why am I here, and how did I end up here?
I sat up and waited for what felt like hours, but was really five minutes until a doctor walked up to me with a clipboard in one hand and a cigarette in the other to ask me some questions. He lit up his cigarette with a steel lighter and crouched down near me.
His lungs are blacker than my soul.
"The good news, Mr. Newman, is that your teeth are fine and that you have only sustained minor injuries to your face that will heal within a matter of weeks. Was this your first seizure?" he asked as he prepared to write something down. He held the clipboard on his knees since he couldn't hold it with the other hand, which he used to smoke.
"Yes, Sir, I'm very much confused as to what caused it, though. I don't have epilepsy, so it couldn't be that," I replied, frowning.
"I see... Perhaps the cause is a case of brain injury; your symptoms are highly similar to it. Are you aware that you started talking about different timelines with the staff on the stretcher? You had these bizarre hallucinations about vines growing everywhere and angels talking to you," he said, writing something on his clipboard. I couldn't read very well what he wrote, but it looked like he put down possible psychosis.
Oh, but different timelines do exist, my friend. I'd take you to one if I could, but then things would get even crazier.
"I'm v-v-very sorry, I d-d-didn't mean to," I stammered.
"Don't apologize, young man; you have nothing to be sorry about. For now, we're going to keep you in here to monitor your condition. If you worsen, our plan would be to prescribe you anticonvulsants to avoid another seizure. Are you alright with that?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," I replied, hoping that I wouldn't have to say sir for each response. I tried my best to sound like I belonged in the 1930s, but I hardly knew anything about them at the time.
"Good, now let's get you some food."
It better not be soup...
YOU ARE READING
The October Amaryllis
Science FictionClive Andrews is a typical 16-year-old boy who never had anything out of the ordinary happen until May 16th, 2020, when he was struck by several feet of ball lightning and nearly killed. After being discharged from the hospital, he realizes that he...
