A Morgue Mystery

You awaken to the monotone clanking of metal wheels on a hard floor. Chill air surrounds you, and you feel as though your entire body were covered in goosebumps. It’s obvious you’re lying on your back, staring upward as florescent lights and beige polystyrene fly past. Where are you? You attempt to turn your head to the side, but to your surprise nothing happens. That’s strange? You try again with the same result. Why couldn’t you seem to move? Were you paralyzed? Was there some kind of accident? Why couldn’t you remember?

Your train of thought is interrupted as you feel whatever you’re lying on briefly jolt, and you see a pair of swinging doors closing on your periphery. Was this some kind of hospital? You then come to a stop. You hear the clicking of a pen and the flipping of paper. Oh good! Someone was here with you. A woman walks up to you and stands at your side. She’s white, average hight, and looks to be somewhere in her mid twenties. She has hazelnut brown hair reaching down to her shoulders done up in a ponytail. As for her clothing, all you can see right now is that she’s wearing a white lab coat and a basic pair of black rimmed glasses. In her hand is a clipboard and tape recorder. You see her turn the tape recorder on and place it on something beside her as she begins to speak.

“This is Doctor Nicole Wesson, I am now preforming an examination of Jane Doe 277-D.”

The shock hits you like a train. You’re Jane Doe. Your dead. You’re dead and in a morgue. Not only that, but they don’t even know who you are.

“Subject is a Female Caucasian. Height, approximately just under 5ft. Weight, around 140 lbs. Age is known to be 20 years old as of yesterday. Hair is light brown, straight, and extends down to the small of her back. Chest is a C-cup.”

So then, this is what death is like? Trapped in your body with no memory of your past. At least you knew what you look like now. You sound pretty.

“I will now take inventory of the subject’s possessions. Subject has no possessions other than her clothing and a card labeled Happy 20th! with yesterday’s date written on it. The subject is wearing a strapless black bodycon dress and a pair of black heels. God, that looks so trashy on her.”

That last remark startles you.