Memoirs of the Dead

He stared at the ceiling. The ceiling stared back. He couldn't remember when he woke up. He sat up in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Sunlight streamed in through an open window. As his view settled on the room before him, he froze. Nothing was familiar. From the light blue walls, to the dark brown carpet, stained with age, he didn't remember anything. He realized he couldn't remember his name either.

To his left stood a nightstand, with a lamp and hastily folded paper on top. He snatched the paper, unfolding it in a deft motion. Three words were written on the top, sloppy, a man's handwriting. Check your pockets. 

 He emptied his pockets, setting everything before him on his bed. A silver watch, a leather wallet, and a small newspaper clipping. He put the watch on his wrist, a thought appearing in his mind. The only thing we can't afford to lose is time. He couldn't recall where he'd heard it.

In the worn wallet was $34, a picture of a happy couple, and an I.D. card with the same man on it. The girl in the picture was beautiful. Long, dark hair curled to her shoulders, sparkling green eyes, brilliantly white teeth. She was shorter than the man by a good 3 inches. The man stood tall, with defined muscles beneath his black t-shirt. He held the girl tightly, as if not even death could bring them apart. He had short brown hair, blue eyes, and a cheeky grin. The picture was framed with white, stringy lace. Something stirred in the back of his mind, but as quickly as it came, it left, leaving his mind groping for the warmth it brought him.

Once again, he was disturbed. Reading, understanding English, the simple things came naturally to him, yet, he could not remember who he was, or what day it was. He looked toward the clipping. It was short article on a rash of suicides. It was dated from 2011. He didn't think about it, his mind was reeling from the lack of information. He picked up the I.D card. The name on the top was Tyler.

Tyler put the items back into their correct places, and his wallet and newspaper clipping back into his pocket. Getting to his feet, he walked to the door, opening it to reveal the large room beyond. He opened the door entirely, letting light flood the room. It was bare, from the walls to the floor. A large, black mark scarred the wall to his left. The floor was bare, blackened with ash. He stepped forward, onto a small hand mirror. He bent to examine it, wiping the grime away with his thumb. The face he saw staring back confirmed his assumption that he was Tyler, although his hair was visibly longer.

At the far end of the room was a grey door. Curiosity consumed Tyler, and he crossed the room in three quick strides, his hand resting on the brass doorknob. He noticed two long scars on his wrist, his left wrist had the same. He pushed unpleasant thoughts aside, and instead quickly unlocked the heavy deadbolt from his door. A heavy thud sounded as it was dropped, and Tyler swung the door open.

A long hallway stretched to his right, leading to a pair of doors, the glass inside was broken and littering the ground beneath. He looked at his bare feet and grimaced. Deciding he had no choice, he continued on. He skirted the glass with much care, striving to reach the outside world.

Tyler crouched beneath the handle running through the frame and looked at the world. Small, two story buildings lined the street, Ivy running haphazardly across their faces. The road beneath him was cracked from incessant heat. Vegetation ran across the street, up the buildings, and around everything else. Men and women were slowly emerging from buildings, slowly, as if hypnotized. "Hello."

Tyler let out a small holler and wheeled around to find a man standing before him. He was short, maybe 5' 6". He had scraggly blonde hair to his double chin. He was surveying the anarchy before him. His eyes suddenly met Tyler's, the black emptiness peering into his soul. "What is your name?" Tyler asked suddenly, his own gruff voice startling him.