He woke up feeling discombobulated. He sat up in his bed. His head felt fuzzy and everything looked grey. He felt strange, different somehow, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t remember going to bed, in fact he couldn’t even remember his name. He bent his mind on remembering, but nothing came.

He rose to his feet. He felt anxious about something, but what? He did not know. He felt like there was something he had to do, but what? He did not know. He looked around the room. It was a typical bedroom, furnished as most bedrooms are with a dresser, night table and a bed, although there seemed to be a lack of personal effects such as photos and pictures. He looked at the bed from which he had just risen and there he saw someone sleeping.

He studied the waxen, wrinkled complexion of the man that lay in the bed and he wondered why he was sharing a bed with this man. The man in the bed looked vaguely familiar, but he could not recall who the man was. He was confounded.

Who is this? Who am I? Maybe I will find something elsewhere in the house that can jog my memory, he thought to himself.

He decided to have a look around and see if he couldn’t discover something that might jog his memory and help solve the mystery he was confronted with. He walked slowly to the door, which was shut. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He reached out to open the door, but when he did his hand passed through the knob. He tried again with the same result. He tried a third time and again his hand passed through the handle.

He was perplexed, confused, this just wasn’t right. How would he open the door if he could not turn the knob? He stood for some time looking at the door, studying it. This was all very strange to him and he didn’t know what to make of it.

He was about to return to the bed when he could hear the approach of soft footsteps on the other side of the door. The knob slowly turned and the door squeaked on its hinges as it opened. A tall, slight dark haired woman wearing a blue nurse’s smock with a monkey print entered the room and flicked on the light.

“Time to get up for breakfast Mr. Wilson,” she said in a soft voice.

The man in the bed did not respond. The nurse repeated herself and still no response. She approached the bed and checked his vitals before rushing out of the room leaving the door wide open. Within a few minutes the staff of the old age home had converged on the room staring and gawking at the deceased man in the bed.

“Good riddance, he was such a foul man,” one of the staff said aloud and the others nodded the correctness of the statement.

The cook had left the kitchen to find out why no one in the dining room was being served and found the gaggle of staff in the deceased man’s room. The cook had overheard the comment made by one of the staff.

“You’re all a bunch of ghouls. There’s a time to pay your respects and this isn’t it, we still have residents that are very much alive and waiting on their breakfast. Get back to work,” the cook said; obviously aggravated by the way the staff was behaving.


He had watched all this and nobody had noticed him, it was as though he was invisible. Thank God for the cook, he found himself thinking. The staff filtered out of the room and left him alone with the corpse.

“I must be dead,” He said.

T J Therien

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