A Prompted Story by /u/prompted-writing


You wake up to a sticky note stuck to your forehead. “In case of amnesia read this”

(reddit link)


I wake up enveloped in cacophony.

Before I'm aware of anything else, I'm aware that it's too loud. The sound is all around me, assaulting me from all directions. The torturous, ugly shriek of metal dragged against metal. Disharmonious, violent, angry, and large. Very large. Whatever the source of this assault, it dwarfs me in scale.

I try to press my palms into my ears but something isn't right. My body isn't oriented how I expect it to be. I slowly try flexing muscles: legs, arms, shoulders, abs. I discover that I'm lying on my side, my right arm pinned beneath me. My torso is twisted and my legs awkwardly stretch vertically above me, against some kind of wall. The floor beneath me is uncomfortable, small jagged metal ridges are poking me.

I try to open my eyes but feel resistance. Something is sticking my eyelids together. I rub them with my free arm and feel it flaking off. As my eyes focus, the first thing I see are the flakes of dried blood on my hand. Is it mine?

I try to take in the scene around me. I'm lodged in a mess of broken and twisted metal beams. They entangled chaotically with what was must once have been metal sheets or walls, but are now warped, twisted and ripped. I can't see the sky, but the light illuminating this scene is natural daylight, filtering and reflecting through from further than I can see.

The impression I have is that someone filled a giant sack with several large building scaffolds and heavy machinery parts, shook it up and poured it all out in a pile, right on top of me. Whatever happened must have happened recently because the pile is unstable. Massive things above me shift and twist, still finding their equilibrium with deafening metallic groans.

Finally, my brain comprehends the danger I'm in. This mess could collapse at any moment. I have to get of here!

First, my trapped arm. My legs are above me, draped over a Y-joint connecting two metal beams. Did I fall here? I squirm to brace my feet, to give myself leverage and everything is pain. Adrenalin and panic have taken hold and pain just drives me on. I press with my legs to raise my hips, contract my shoulders, wrench painfully and my arm is free.

I see that I've been holding something in my right hand. My grip on it is so tight, I have to use my left hand to uncurl each finger. An accident of how my arm was wedged, or did I want to keep hold of this so very badly?It's a block of hard, black plastic, longer than it is wide and wider than it is deep. It has three recessed little buttons on one side, one green, one purple and one light blue. A remote control? Why do I have this?

There is no time to find answers, I need to get out of here without bringing this mess down on top of me. The light is brighter in the direction my head is pointing. It's my best guess at which direction is out.

I raise my hands to feel out the space above my head and brush against something on my forehead. Paper? I try to pull it off but its attached strongly at one point. I feel around. A staple? The piece of paper is stapled to my forehead with wat feels like a standard office staple. I manage to get my fingernails under it and pull it out, barely noticing the pain.

"In case of amnesia, read this."

Amnesia? I don't have amnesia. To demonstrate this obvious fact to myself, my mind reaches for easily accessible personal facts and finds nothing. My name, my job, my family, why I'm here. I should know these things. I know that I know these things. But all I find in my mind when I try to recall them is a void. Oh, shit.

I turn the note over, looking for more text but there is none. I feel around my head for more notes, but there is nothing.

Suddenly, all my thoughts and doubts are driven away by an especially loud metallic groan from somewhere above me, followed by a sharp, ear-pearcing snap. Pieces of metallic debris begin raining down, bouncing haphazardly through the rubble like pachinko balls. There's no time for mysteries, only survival.

I reach above my head for a handhold and begin worming my battered body awkwardly through the debris.