The Lost Lady (contest version)

Today is a new day. Nonetheless, I still have no memory of what happened to me.I sit here at the edge of my bed, and I can feel little pins and needles moving through my feet.

I should be happy, as I have been told it is a sign that I will walk again. Those ordinary, little slippers lie on the floor, awaiting me. Soon, my physical therapist will arrive to aid me in my effort to walk. I am frightened because I fear if I try to stand up, my legs will buckle beneath me, and I shall collapse to the floor.

Three weeks ago, I was found lying on the well-manicured grounds of an illustrious public figure. The police informed me that I had a drug in my system, which is similar to one an anesthesiologist uses for certain procedures. A large tree limb was lying across my back, and I was unconscious.

The surgeon performed an operation that, if successful, would remove all of the bone fragments lodged near my spine. These fragments were preventing me from walking.  Today I discover if the surgery has done what doctors hoped it would accomplish.

I have lost all memory of what transpired on that day. I do not recognize the picture of that high profile person the detective keeps flashing in front of my face. Thus, I am no better equipped to answer his persistent questions today than I was weeks ago.

I am told that the public figure found me under the tree limb on his property, and called the paramedics. He told reporters, police, and any other interested party who asked him, that I was trespassing, and somehow was injured by the tree branch. However, that does not explain the drug found in my system.

The clothes I had on when they recovered me were professional, quality label items. Nevertheless, there was no purse with identification found on me. They tell me that because of my accent, I may not even be from this nation.

I feel quite lost and dreadfully lonely. However, these things do not bother me as much as the news I have received. One hour ago, a doctor came into my room with a pleasant smile on his face, and told me that the doctors were able to save the baby. I am having a baby, yet I do not know who the child’s father is; worse than that, I do not know who I am. No wedding ring was found amongst my possessions.

The only solace I have is the humble cross which hangs on the wall, awaiting my prayers each day. I can only hope that I regain my memory so I will be able to sort out my life.

At this moment, I must face walking again. Eventually, I will figure out how to be the mother of a stranger.


Word count 481