Before Him, After Her.

Lets Jump Into Things!

Loud sirens shatter my soundless sleep, making my legs kick and my arms shake like maracas. Then it stopped, and I couldn't move. Not now, move! I shouted in my head. I was having an episode of my Amnesiatic Paralysis, a baby between amnesia and seizures. Over the years I had apparently learned to cope with it by just relaxing and thinking about something else. And if I'm going to be stuck here, I might as well tell you my story.

At the age of ten I was diagnosed with amnesia. The whole reason why was because suddenly I couldn't remember my name, but I could for some reason remember how to move, talk, do all the daily things. So my mom took me to a small clinic and there I was told that I had a genetically altered version of amnesia that struck at around a three year interval. On that note, you might be wondering why I'm able to remember this, while I'm not. I must have put a big explanation of myself on my roof for times like this. But for my seizure thing, it tagged along after I blanked out in a high school light party. Now they both go on the same clock. For my personal stuff: My name is Jack Fisher, and I'm an investigator in a small town just outside of Colorado. I've solved 358 cases so far.

Another wave of sirens drowns the night sky, making me cringe in anger, I needed to get out there. Wait, I can move! sprinting to my door, I grab a nearby blue and green hurley sweater and crash into the hallway. It was then that I realized my mistake, I had no idea how to get out. Next time I really need to make a map, I thought to myself.

Breaking into the cool air of 2 am Laramie, I sit on a nearby bench to take a breath. I was on the fourth floor of a residential area apartment. Now I gotta find the crime scene, I motivated myself. Jogging towards the impending drama of whatever happened at the sirens, I realized what good shape I was in. I had jogged through four apartment floors and had only taken a couple seconds to rest. I probably had a car back in the parking lot, but I didn't want to get more lost and I didn't need it. Already the sirens were sounding shrill, so I was getting close.

The old texan cop wrapped in muscles, toned cheeks and a mario style mustache met me with great hostility, like he didn't want to be waked up at 2 am for his job. "This isn't a sight see son, so get out." He snapped horsley. "I'm.. uh Jack from uh" I was making him angry, but I couldn't remember anything! "Here's my badge, I'm Jack Fisher, the investigator for this town, and that's no way to treat an official." He barely gave it a look before shoving it back into my chest. "Fine, but make it quick." He grumbled. I wish it would have been quicker.

It seemed like everything was boiling down by the time I made it to the crime scene, which was a red brick and wood house with a shattered window. Slowly cracking the door open as to not destroy evidence, I saw a police officer on the ground beside a bloody girl while people in suits dusted the house for what could only be finger prints. Hearing the creak of the wooden old style door the police turned, showing off his sheriff badge on his heart. This man was the sheriff! "Come with me to the other room boy!" He grumbled, waving a gloved finger towards a entry across the room. I followed him into the room, where he then turned and told his story. "That was my daughter, a victim of a drive by shooting, so you can understand when I ask what the heck are you doing here." He asked, his voice slowly escalating in volume. "Well I'm jack fisher, and I'm here to investigate any possible crime scenes, so that means I need to be here." I stated plainly. This had happened before, crime fighting figures having their families kidnapped or murdered. You just have to stop your heart from feeling for them.