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Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27 : Writing Prompts and Challenges • Page 5 • Writing Forum | WritersDigest.com

Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

The editors of Writer's Digest provide a weekly Writing Prompt to get your writing going.
Advance thought
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Re: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby Advance thought » Sat Jan 03, 2009 6:41 am

I awoke cold and in a sour mood. Why was I laying on something that resembled a goat? I looked around confused. I don’t know where I started out, but something was very wrong if this is where my life lead me; an igloo. I sat up slowly and looked about once more searching for any kind of clue. Nothing stood out or pecked interest in my memory; so I converted my attention to something hard in my back pocket that was causing sitting cross-legged to be extremely uncomfortable. I stood and dug through my pockets; the first ting I came upon was a rock. I grew baffled as I took in its painted color and googly eyes. Someone was clearly messing with me but I couldn’t even remember my own name; much less the name of a pet rock owner. So I continued to search through my pockets, but I came across nothing more then four dollars and a toothbrush. The toothbrush was rather refreshing seeing as how I couldn’t be sure of the last time I brushed, but then again I couldn’t be sure if it was my own either. So I opted to do what only could be done in a situation like this. I lay back down on the goat matt and waited for sleep; but before I shut my eyes I gave one short prayer. “Please god let me wake up in the Hampton’s; with a bronze oiled up message therapist watching me; rather then the unisex snow suit who has been looking at me funny since I have woken to your crude humor. Amen.”

bsirrot
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The Guides RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby bsirrot » Wed Jan 07, 2009 4:46 pm

They had thought; Put an ad in the paper and wait. “Experienced guides for hire. Affordable back country experiences for singles.” It has seemed so easy. That was where she found them.

"I'm not feeling well. I think I need an aspirin. What time is it?” she said as she squinted through sleep-swollen eyes.

"It's 3:00 pm."

The ride had been a long one. She had dosed off as soon as the car started. When the young woman didn't awake after the car stopped, they carried her into the hut they had built earlier in the summer.

"What time is it?” she asked for the fourth time in less than 10 minutes.

"Julie?" the man in the back of the hut called. But she didn't turn her head. Something was very wrong.

She wanted to come right away. They didn't see a problem. Business had not been good. It was an August afternoon when she arrived on the train. She had a small bag, a warm coat, gloves and hat. But, beyond that she was without any identifying mark. They had checked her bag when she excused herself to freshen up. There was only $4, a rock in one side pocket and a toothbrush in the other. No credit cards or even a wallet. It was as though she had come from thin air and had nowhere to go. The old one had thought about leaving right then.

“Hike to the top of the mountain…it has always been a dream” she said. She was suffering from a health problem. She just needed someone to hike along. It seemed so easy. One day what she needed and she had the place marked on the map she sent. The cash in the envelope was her first payment. The rest would be paid when she arrived.

He dropped the bag to the bench and turned away. No wallet or cards? Where was more money going to come from? How was she going to pay? When she sat beside him he realized she was beautiful...that could be the payoff. Some things were better than money.

They watched as she turned over. The floor was very cold and the roof of the igloo shaped hut sloped very near to the floor. She stood and walked to the door, glancing outside.

“ I don't feel well. I think I need an aspirin. It is so light outside. What time is it?"

The men looked at each other thinking the same thought. She was not worth the struggle and the guilt. They knew she would not tell. She barely noticed when they drove away. A glance at her watch told her it was 3:30. A bird told her that she could do what she needed to do and no one would know. She started up the trail toward the one that waited. Who would ever look here? It was perfect. She was the one that had escaped! And she had a rock, $4 and a toothbrush.

b

bsirrot
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Re: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby bsirrot » Wed Jan 07, 2009 4:53 pm

:) This was the one that caught my eye. I loved it! And if you have ever know anyone with amnesia you would know that you nailed it!

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Re: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby bsirrot » Fri Jan 09, 2009 7:05 am


littlered
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RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby littlered » Wed Jan 21, 2009 1:04 pm

My feet are cold. Oh god my feet are soo cold! I twist to my right side reaching down to pull the blankets back over me. Pain shoots through my hip as I roll onto it groping for the covers. Frustrated and annoyed with the cold and the pain I fight through the grogginess and open my eyes. I freeze, my body tenses. I don't know where I am. Crisp blue light filters in from all around me. What the ...? fighting exhaustion, I push myself self up onto my elbows, and realize that I am not alone. I start to shriek, but it catches in my throat and all I can do is gasp. "What, who, what the heck? Who are you? Where am I?"
"Julie, calm down." He urges
His voice and this name are both familiar, and have a mildly calming effect on me, enough to slow my pounding heart, though the rest of me remains tense and alert. I don't know who this is. Wait. I don't know who I...
"Julie, "
Okay, I tell myself, looking around the room for others,
"Julie!"
I, I must be,
"JULIE!"
I'm Julie?
“Julie, look at me"
He is sitting less than five feet away from me and instinctively I want to back away, but something makes me stay put. I study his face for something familiar and its there, I just can't figure out what it is.
"Oh god Julie, that cut is still bleeding" He reaches for my face.
I flinch and he pulls his hand back, a look of hurt flashing across his eyes before his features try to settle into concern, his eyes still giving him away.
"You don't recognize me"
I feel bad
"I, I do...Almost, I mean, I, I don't know your name..."
"Its okay..." He gets up and starts pushing at the walls, searching for gap in the blocks and I realize, I'm in an igloo!! Wait, Igloo? Why am I wearing flip flops if I'm in an Igloo….?
".. You hit your head pretty bad when those kindergarteners pushed you into the dinosaur"
"Wait, WHAT? What dinosaur, and why do I know you? Kindergarteners?!!"
"Because I'm your husband!? Jim? No? Still nothing?"
"NO..." My confusion is making me angry “Would you please stop that and tell me what the heck is going on?"
He flashes a grin at me. "Ha, that’s my girl! You’ll be fine! Look how red your cheeks are!"
He’s right. My cheeks get hotter and I clench my fist involuntarily. He must be my husband, this feels all too familiar.
“Just tell me what happened"
"Oh, honey!” He chuckles. “Well, we were walking through the Jurassic hall looking at the fossils when a field trip came through with a bunch of little kids. There were two boys arguing at the back of the group and they started to push each other. You were turning around and one of them shoved the other one into you and you fell back into the T-rex skeleton. You hit it pretty hard and the whole thing starts shaking and crashing down and the kids start screaming and running. You were passed out and it looked like the whole thing was going to fall so I grabbed you and I dragged you in here and then it did come down and blocked the exit to this stupid thing. We've been in here ever since. I keep hearing voices out there, so I think they are looking for people, but nothing yet. It’s been two hours. I tried to wake you up but I couldn't, and you were still breathing, so I figured you were okay"

It all rushes back at my like cold water in the face. The little red headed kid and the look of horror on his face as I fall and grope at the air, and then nothing.
"Oh JIM!" I grab him and I hold him tight. I love this man! "You rescued me" I whisper in his ear
"I know" he whispers back “I’m your knight in shining armor" And he kisses me falling over him self and spilling us both onto the floor laughing.

"Hey you kids okay in there? Whoa. Sorry! Hey, you gotta get out of there"

The guard ushers us to the main hall and points us towards the make shift medical tent for the dinosaur disaster victims. We stroll past hand in hand.
"I'm okay, really!" I wave one away who rushes over at the sight of the blood on my forehead. We walk out to the street and the sun beats down warming my toes.
"Hey, Jules, do you still have the bus fare?"
I fish in my pockets and come up with 4$, a crystal engraved with the museum logo ("aha, stupid rock!"), and a toothbrush.
"Yup. But honey, why am I walking around with a toothbrush in my pocket?"

CGRhodes
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Re: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby CGRhodes » Wed Jan 21, 2009 5:38 pm

“God my head hurts.” Heartbeats marked time on my brain. I tried to open my eyes but the lids had been sealed with crazy glue, or so it seemed. Who would do such a thing? Through the pounding I licked my fingers and wiped them across my eyes. Grit peeled from my lashes freeing my lids. I was blinded for a moment.

Where am I? I couldn’t see, but I knew it wasn’t my bed. No familiar dent in the mattress on “his side.” I’m angry with “him” so I refuse to say his name…even if I could remember it…bastard. My legs were numb. Cold began to creep into the warm space I had created and brought with it more pain. poop unicorns and rainbows.

Shapes sharpened and I noticed someone staring at me from across the room…if you could call it a room. It was white and sterile and reminded me of death. Am I dead? Too cold for heaven. And hell…too cold. Good. Not dead.

“Where am I?” Why won’t she answer me?
“I see you’re waking up.” She started walking toward me.
“Please, tell me who you are and where I am.”
“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t try to talk. I can’t understand you anyway. You knocked your head pretty bad and you’re talking gibberish. Just relax and I’ll get the doc.”

Doc? This isn’t a hospital; that much I can tell. Hospitals have windows and phones and nurses and fancy equipment for people who have “knocked” their head and are “talking gibberish.” This place has none of that. What the hell is going on?

I looked around for something familiar. Nothing. Not just nothing I could remember, but simply nothing. Just rounded icy walls and a floor that looked like it was made of hard snow. I tried to remember something, anything. Nothing came, not even my name. My heart began to plow through my ribs my hands groped around searching for an ID, a photo a talisman.

Something was in my pocket. I reached in and retrieved its contents. I starred blankly at what turned out to be $4, a toothbrush and a rock. A frickin rock? What the hell was that?

The woman came back with a man. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have found him quite attractive. I calmed for a moment until I saw his right hand. He raised it towards my arm and said, “I’m going to give you a shot now. Should relieve the pressure on your brain. Can’t have our best subject compromised.” I tried to resist, but found my movement limited and weak.

My body went cold and I blinked. Tears flooded my eyes, and I remembered. I had left the house angry. I thought I’d take a walk and clear my head. I left him in the doorway calling after me, but I wouldn’t turn around to acknowledge him, or his apology, or that he loved me. I simply stepped out into the night turning left into the park. I remembered thinking I’d stay the night at my sister’s and stopping off at a corner store to grab a toothbrush, giving the cashier a fiver dollar bill and getting four ones in return. I remembered waking up here before with them poking and prodding at me, relentlessly, without pity or compassion. I remembered the coldness, and that I hadn’t been home in a very, very long time….

ButterflyLuv
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RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby ButterflyLuv » Sat Feb 28, 2009 11:26 am

This is my first time doing one of these here it goes...

Awakening I shake my head, as I do I realize I have a headache. I realize I am shivering and as I open my eyes I see what looks like ice and snow around me. I see someone staring at me and then it suddenly moves towards an opening through which I see the sun. Before leaving this space I decide to take inventory. In my left pocket I find a rock and four one dollar bills. In my right pocket I find a toothbrush with a pink handle. Rubbing my thumb across the bristles I realize that it is a soft toothbrush. I question myself about why on Earth I would have that in my pocket. I slowly crawl towards the opening wondering what I will find outside.

As I crawl I notice that my jeans are wet on my backside. I wonder how long I have been in here and now as I crawl my knees are wet. I hate the feeling of wet clothes sticking to my skin. As I get to the opening I squint at the bright sun, I look around and to my left a see a swing set. To my right a see a gray house. Is that my house? Do I have children who would play on a swing set? Are they the ones who put me in here? Why would they do that? If they did they will be in deep trouble. I slowly attempt standing and as I do I fall back on my knees. “Dang! That hurt!” I think to myself. I continue to crawl deciding to head to the house. Hopefully, they can tell me whom I am, where I am and what I am doing here.

As I get to the door I decide to feel in my back pocket for a wallet. I realize there isn’t one there. That could have helped me know who I am. I really hope the people in this house know me. I begin my ascent of the stairs and as I do this big dog comes rushing towards me. He’s not scary looking and he’s not barking. He skids to a stop a couple feet away and then comes up to me and licks me with his slobbery tongue. Whose Newfoundland is this? Why is he licking me? I don’t recognize him.

I get to the sliding glass door and knock. No answer. The dog continues to lick my face. “Casper?” I question. The question meets me with another round of kisses from the slobbery dog. Okay, so I know the dog. Is he mine? Do I live here? I wish the dog would stop licking me. I recall the rock in my pocket. I pull it out and through it as hard as I can into the yard. Casper goes running after it. “Dumb dog.” I think. I then reach up to knock on the sliding glass door again. As I do the door opens…

jmartins
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RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby jmartins » Thu Mar 18, 2010 1:33 pm

I tried not to groan as I sat up, stretching my arms wide. Oops, so much for not groaning. Not that anyone could hear me, it was my own house. Speaking of house, why is it so cold?
My bleary, sleep filled eyes look around, before closing. I hate it when that happens. You’re awake, but you still see the dream, you know? I try again.
No luck, still a freaky dream. There’s an igloo around me, probably my mental way to project the cold I’m feeling. Really, it’s not that cold. And there’s this weird Eskimo looking guy, only he’s ancient. His wizened fingers deftly maneuver a knife, carving a piece of wood into a beautiful humming bird. How did he see a humming bird if he’s an Eskimo? Probably my brain manifestation, because hummingbirds are by far my favorite birds.
For the second time, I press my eyes shut, and then the third. The image just won’t go away! I decide to explore a little more. Since I’m looking at an Eskimo in an igloo, it’s only fitting that I’m wearing one of those stereotypical fir jackets, and my imagination doesn’t disappoint. The fur on the hood and all, I’m wearing it. It’s comfy too. Really comfy. My shoes are simple, with no sloes. Just the same material as my jacket, except on my feet. My pants are a little thicker, probably because I fall a lot. My imagination knows me too well. I check my pockets. There’s a toothbrush in one of them. Is that a mental reminder that my teeth stink? Really, you’d think my brain can do better, I know that already. In the other pocket, I find four one-dollar bills, wrapped around a smooth pebble. It’s as smooth as glass, the kind of pebble that I’ve only seen in one place in my life. Why am I remembering that?
Again, I close my eyes again. Open. No luck. Close. Open. Nope. This had never happened to me before. Stuck in a dream for this long? It must be a new world record. Just to try it out, I go to pinch myself, only now realizing that my hands are covered in soft, thin gloves. I take both of them off, pinching the back of my left hand with my right pointer and thumb. I’ve never physically hurt myself in a dream, but everyone says it will work. Might as well try it, right?
Nothing. I open my eyes for the sixth time, but still no luck. The Eskimo man has stopped carving his amazing hummingbird, and he’s just staring at me. Randomly, he speaks, “Where’s my money?”
Ok, this was a weird dream. What had a drunk last night? All I remember was… nothing. Memory, memory, memory… I came up blank. Sure, I could remember the time in the river when I was twelve, and graduating eighth grade when I was fourteen. But the rest? Blank. And no, I’m not stupid. I know that there is more. I’m not fourteen for Christ sake! I’m at least 19, I remember that much. Maybe more? What a weird dream.
I’d forgotten that that man was there, but he spoke once more, “No. No dream. No dream. Money.”
Might as well play along, apparently I won’t be waking up any time soon, “What money?” When he doesn’t answer, “How much?” Remembering, I take out the four dollars, handing them to him but keeping my pebble.
He looks at them, accepting them slowly, “Now… ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety four… and thirty five cents.”
In that moment, I had a sudden inclination to believe him when he said that it wasn’t a dream. And that meant that I was in SERIOUS trouble. poop unicorns and rainbows.

Stephanie McCaskey
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RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby Stephanie McCaskey » Wed Jun 16, 2010 1:14 pm


I woke up to find myself shivering, teeth chattering, hovering in a sleeping bag in an igloo. A freaking igloo.


In one hand, I held a toothbrush, and in the other, I held a rock. I imagine somewhere in the depths of the great unknown that was my back pocket, I had a few dollars that I was supposed to tip the pizza delivery guy with earlier that evening. Instead of handing over the wad of cash, I gave him a spoken tip. Don’t eat yellow snow. I chuckled to myself, and rolled over on my side.


Someone was staring at me.


I shot up from where I was laying, and sat up ramrod straight. The person—I honestly couldn’t tell the gender, given the overbearing parka—had dark eyes the color of coal. It just kind of eyed me suspiciously underneath the fuzzy hood. Hell, I was suspicious of myself. How’d I get here? And why on earth was I carrying around a toothbrush?


I figured if the thing posed a threat, I could knock it out with the rock and scrub it to death. No, that was insane. Besides, I didn’t have any toothpaste to scrub it with.


I figured that this must be an Eskimo—a real Eskimo! I’d never seen one before. Well, I guess that made sense. I’d never been outside of Florida, so snow, along with the igloo and the Neanderthal, were foreign to me.


“HELL-LO,” I said loudly and slowly, annunciating each syllable with impeccable diction. I was pretty proud of myself. I’d had a stuttering problem as a child, and it kind of wounded my ego.


“Do you have a name?” I asked, talking at a normal speed now. I didn’t expect it to understand me, but sighed in dismay anyway at the blank stare I was returned with.


“Then I’ll name you myself,” I decided. I decided to call the ancient human Pat. You can’t go wrong with a unisex name.


“Pat.” I said the name to myself, and I liked the way it just sort of rolled off my tongue.


I did a little wave with my hand. The thing just stared at me blankly, its dark eyes unblinking. It didn’t exactly look bored, but it wasn’t necessarily thrilled, either. I shrugged, and its eyes flashed to the toothbrush in my hand.


“Oh, you like this, buddy?” I asked, waving it around like a magic wand. It nodded, as if it understood what I was saying.


“Here you go,” I said, handing over the toothbrust. He took it, and pulled away the parka just enough to reveal his mouth. Yup, it was a dude. He had a beard that could have put Santa Claus to shame. He looked at me and grinned, a wide, grimy smile. He was missing a few teeth, but it is called a toothbrush, after all.


I guess I didn’t expect him to know how to use a toothbrush correctly, but I was a little shocked when he shoved the thing in every canal but his mouth. He stuck it in his ear and up his nose. He even ran the bristles along his eyelashes and made a weird cooing noise. Finally, he settled on using it to comb his rather ferocious beard. I had to give Pat credit. He was a creative guy.


“Where are we?” I asked him, even though I knew I was really asking only myself. I pulled my knees to my chest, and patted a spot next to him atop the sleeping bag. It was one of those plaid numbers, fit for a lumberjack. I was no lumberjack. The closest I got to hardware was the Home Depot a mile from my house.


I pulled out the four dollars from my back pocket, feeling the crisp paper between my fingers. Fresh from the bank. I should have just given it to the delivery guy. Maybe this was karma. Maybe because I hadn’t tipped the pizza delivery guy, I was trapped inside a snow globe or something. People tell me that I watch too much TV, but I’m telling you, it pays to be aware.


Pat eyed the rock that I had sat next to me. “What, you want it?” I extended my hand to him, and he took the rock. Since he couldn’t fit it up his nose or in his ear, he fit his mouth around it. I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it. His face must have been made of elastic, because the rock was at least four inches in diameter, and he fit the whole thing in his mouth.


“Oh, that’s real nice,” I muttered sarcastically at the drooling beast before me. I guess I couldn’t blame innocent Pat—people didn’t know much about sanitation during the Stone Age.


He spit the rock out with a violent force of air and saliva, some of which hit me square between the eyes. Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve been spit on in the face by a caveman. The rock, however, fell into his palms, which were bigger than my face.


“Doog,” he christened me with a jab of his dirty finger. Okay, so maybe we were getting somewhere. “Doog oog nogooo!” How sweet, he’d been considerate enough to give me a full name. I’d have to remember that if I planned to apply for a dinosaur license.


“No,” I disagreed, shaking my head. “Mike,” I corrected, placing a hand to my chest for emphasis.


“Doog oog nogoo!” he repeated with a determined scowl, louder this time.


“No, it’s Mike!” I don’t know why I was standing here, in some Neanderthal’s igloo, arguing about my identity, but I guess you can’t explain everything that you do. It wasn’t a wise decision.


He hauled back his hand, and out of it shot the rock. The rock met my face with a violet thud. One might say that the noise was from my hollow head, but I’d like to think I have a little more dignity than that. So I’ll give old Pat a compliment and just say that he threw that rock pretty hard.


I fell over and everything went black. I swear to god, he started laughing.


I woke up laying in the middle of my foyer in my house in safe, sunny Florida, the front door open wide. In my hand was a wad of dollar bills. Standing in the doorway was a rather round man with a rather puffy beard. Not to mention rather familiar black eyes. In one arm, he held two pizza boxes. He held out his other hand, to accept the money in my corresponding hand.


“Mike!” my wife was shouting, hovering over me the way women do when someone faints or they’ve seen a mouse. She was doing the whole bit—that jumpy little dance and waving her arms. It was embarrassing, but the guy in my doorway didn’t seem to mind.


I stood up, a little dizzy. “Are you alright?” my wife shouted. Funny, when I’d fallen, I hadn’t realized that I magically became hard of hearing.


“I’m fine,” I grumbled. I handed the pizza delivery guy the cash, and he gave me the pizzas.
Upon receiving the money, his mouth stretched up in a wide, yellow, sparse-toothed grin. I glanced at his nametag. In bold red letters, the nametag read: PAT.


Alessandra
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RE: Amnesia and the Igloo 10/21-10/27

Postby Alessandra » Thu Jun 24, 2010 4:12 pm

What happened?
I asked myself this as I woke up. I could feel different shapes in my pocket. A rock? And... I sat up. My head was spinning. A rock, four dollars, and a tooth brush. All in my pockets.
Where was I? I looked around. Snow and ice block walls. A picture from long ago appeared in my mind. A little, transparent, round-roofed building. Yes. An igloo. Mom showed it to me. It was a Christmas ornament. Inside the igloo, there was two Eskimos reading books with a smile on their faces and cups of cocoa.
But there were no Eskimos, no books, and certainly no cocoa in sight.
All that was there was a tall man in a heavy, uncomfortable looking red raincoat. I could see a thicker coat on beneath it. He stood in the entrance, holding a mallet.
"Oops." He said, then let out a squeamish little giggle and ran away.

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