General Fiction posted July 11, 2018


Excellent
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
I woke up, but I was no longer me

Someone else

by Emily George


Someone else

I feel stiff and sore, but I suppose that is to be expected. I feel confused and muddled by the events of the night before. Why had the driver not seen me? Why had the person behind the wheel not stopped? I wonder if it had been a case of drink driving, drugs, or had the person driving just not seen me? No! I remember I had been wearing a white top and that I was crossing on a well lit part of the road.
The last thing I remember was being up in the air and hitting the ground hard. I also remember that someone had rushed to help me, an elderly woman with a shaky voice. She had wanted to call the police and an ambulance. That had been enough for me. I remember how I had reassured her that I was fine. Then I remember how I had got up, and then I had hobbled away. I know that I hate hospitals, but I can't for the life of me recall why I feel that way.

I decide to get up instead of lying in bed overthinking. I spot my reflection in the mirror as I get out of bed, I look and then look again. I begin to feel strange and I have a sensation of something at odds. I cannot remember my hair being so blond or long! I gave my self a mental shake. I tell my self "My name is Hannah Anne Baxter of 78 Wilton Drive, Leura NSW. And I'm 30 years old and a Lawyer. There I'm perfectly fine!" I think I must have been really out of it, as I didn't even change my clothes for bed last night. I self talk my way down the thickly carpeted hall. I feel oddly uncomfortable in my attire why is everything so bloody tight? I like to wear floating and loose clothing. As I sit at the table I think this is not my table! This is not my house! And then I begin to feel the panic, I feel it begin like bile as it rises up in my throat, then I feel the pressure in my chest.
'Be calm!' I can hear my inner voice repeat over and over. I recognise my mantra and it calms me. I stretch and do some yoga poses and feel better, though I see I have several bruises and grazes. I sit there stupendous at my situation. Then I decide to search the house.

I find a ruby, red bag and purse on a hall table, it is not mine. I see that my fingers are beginning to tremble as I open the purse. The drivers license is of strangers face, a woman with long, blond hair, my age. The one I saw in the mirror, but I don't look like that! I feel myself shaking all over as I read the address on the license, 54 Allworth Avenue, North Sydney. I run to the door and open it, at the end of the garden is a letter box with the numbers 54, in bold, black numerals. I'm in a quiet leafy street and I feel totally disoriented. I hear a motorcycle and it's suddenly beside me.

'Good morning Ms Bolton, great day so far for swimming.'

The postman is smiling, crinkles appear around the corners of his eyes. He appears to know me I try to give him a smile. The letter in my hand is addressed to Kylie Bolton. I look at my hands, with perfectly manicured, nails. They are a strangers hands. What is going on!

As I return to the house I look around me. I am in a beautiful house. It is large and stately. I see a home theatre room and something happens. I look at the blank screen, and start to get flash images. It's like a replay in slow motion of what happened to me last night. I see the lit up road the white top. I am in my black Mercedes, I feel such love for that car. I remember how great it is to have the weekend off. I'm on my way to the Hilton in Sydney for the weekend. I reach for my phone and the pain in my chest is excruciating.

Sounds of screeching tyres a woman in a white top, then I'm up in the air and in a flash hitting the road hard. I'm disoriented and stumbling away. I remember not knowing where I live and searching through some purse. I find a drivers license but cannot remember where my house is. I use the mobile to find google maps and put in the address on the license. Non of this makes sense! Am I in someone else's body? How can I be, but I know this is not me. I am Hannah, I was driving the car that hit Kylie. And now I seem to be in Kylie's body! I realise that I need to get out of this place, and get home.

I feel calmer now as I head for home. I have to smile I'm behind the wheels of Kylie's black Mercedes, it seems we have more than I thought in common. I turn on the radio and hear the details of last nights fatality, I'm apparently dead. I listen to the account of what happened. I listen to the interview from the old lady with the shaky voice.
'She just refused my help and the poor woman in the other car! I heard the paramedics say they suspected she had suffered a heart attack. But I think they are doing an autopsy first.'

I smiled at the woman warming to her story and enjoying her sobriety. So it was the heart, I think matter of factly. Another Baxter bites the dust, it's genetic. All that time at the gym paid off! I feel a bit miffed, when I think of all the chocolate I didn't eat. As I pull off into Leura I feel nervous, nobody will recognise me I suddenly realise. As I turn into my street I see my house is surrounded with cars. I get out of mine as my mother comes out of my front door. I walk down the drive and look at her tear stained face. She introduces herself and I find myself saying

'I hope you don't mind the intrusion, but it was me that your daughters car hit.'

' Oh dear' mum puts her hand on my arm 'are you alright people are worried about you!'

She looks so lost and I want to say it's me, but she clearly does not recognise me as her daughter.

' Come inside dear' she offers.

' I just wanted to give my condolences. So I would rather not intrude.' I hear myself saying, as I all but run back to Kylie's car.

What now! I wonder as I head back on the highway, back to Kylie's. A Bob Dylan song is playing on the radio, it cheers me as I am a huge fan. The song finishes and they are playing an old interview of Dylan's. In the interview he is talking about when he was involved in a motor bike accident. I listen intently as he explains that he was never the same, that he felt like he became another person, that he had died. He calls it transference where another person steps into your body. It warms me a bit and I find myself laughing as I pull into Kylie's drive. If it's alright for Dylan, maybe I will be ok after all.

The weekend is over and I look at my reflection in the mirror. I think the hair has to go, at least a little shorter. I decide on a bob, that's how Hannah Anne Baxter wore her hair and so Kylie is going to have a change. I have been slowly learning about Kylie, I now know that she is a hairdresser. Wow! I think will I be able to pull this off. Can I cut hair? I pick up the scissors and hold a tress of what used to be Kylie's hair and is now mine.
'I guess I will find out!' And with each successful snip I begin the journey of being someone else.


























































Someone Else writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
You (or your character) wakes up and are someone different.


That was fun
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by cleo85 at FanArtReview.com

Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.


© Copyright 2018. Emily George All rights reserved.
Emily George has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.