Young Writers Society

My second book! Well, I don't know how to put this. Get ready grammar freaks. This was typed on an ipad!

I wake up in an almost empty room. The walls are painted a plain white. I can't say I like that color too much. The window doesn't have any curtains, which I find unusual. I look down and my bed is the same,it is also white and plain. I am wearing a light gown, the shade of fresh mint leaves. For a second I imagine the smell and look of mint leaves, the way they shine in the morning with fresh water droplets. This gown is only that color, but I still enjoy it.

I look around once more, I don't know where I am. The room is empty and clean. No one is in the room besides me. The room looks very large and I wonder if the room feels lonely. I also wonder if the door misses the sound of itself opening. I can't quite remember that sound, but I am sure it sounds lovely. I snap my fingers in attempt to imitate what I think the door sounds like when it snaps shut. I smile at my snapping fingers, I love the noise.

Two men and a small boy walk in, the door snaps and I almost jump in excitement. So that's what it sounds like, I think. The boy looks like he is my age and I smile at them. One of the two men is wearing a coat similar to the gown I am wearing. He doesn't seem to like the gown, or the other people in the room. I wonder why he isn't smiling, it is a wonderful day. The other men don't seem to be smiling either, and I frown. The boys worried eyes are set on mine and I almost cry. I don't like seeing people worry, and he is no exception. I smile at him and he grabs me in a sudden tight embrace.

"This is all my fault miracle," he mumbles into my hair. I hug him back. Miracle, I like that name. Is it mine? I don't know, and I don't ask.

"It isn't your fault." I say. I don't know what he is talking about but I say it anyway, it feels right. He starts to whimper into my shoulder and tears overwhelm my body too. He is contagious like a cold, but more caring and thoughtful, I can tell by his sugar brown eyes that are filled to the brim with tears as he lifts his head up. Why must people cry? I wonder this to myself. His hands are shaking and his whole face is filled with a mix of relieve and worry. I put my hand on his head and he bows it down like a hurt puppy. I am afraid he will cry again, so I bow my head too.

"Hello miracle. I know this is hard to comprehend right now, but you are in a hospital. I know this strange, but you have lost your memories. Are there any things you remember?" The man in the coat that matches my gown says. He seems to have rehearsed that line over and over again.

I do have memories, but very little of them. I remember the mint leaves that I used to grow in the spring, and the beautiful shades of green they would bring along with a wonderful scent. I also remember a pair of sugar brown eyes, and the petals of a cherry blossom on the ground in spring. I tell the man in the coat this information and he jots these things down. The boy is sitting in the corner of the room on the dull white tile with a swollen face from crying, but his tears are dry and he is smiling. I smile too.

"She remembers me." He mutters. His smile disappears and I frown again. "Oh, miracle. What have I done to you."