As I said last week, I’m trying to decide which project I’m going to work on for NaNoWriMo this year.

As usual, I have a choice of stories and I’ve narrowed it down to three. I’m taking a look at each of them, in turn.

The second one is featured today,

I Remember Everything.

The idea for this one came from a lot of little things, each one insignificant on its own. Mixed in the right order, a pattern emerges.

Here’s how it begins; or is it how it ends? I’ll leave that up to you.

I remember the first day of this life, it started with pain, the same way that the last day of my old life ended.

I didn’t realise that it was a new life, not to begin with. It seemed to start only seconds after the end of what must have been my last one. In my old life, I had slipped into unconsciousness, now I was awake.

I opened my eyes, where was I? The last thing I recalled was the grin on his face, the cold, dark warehouse, the flash of a blade. Where I was now was bright and warm. And noisy, I could hear several different voices, male and female. Most of what they were saying was indistinct, voices overlaid on voices, accompanied by the bleep of machinery.

“What lovely blue eyes,” said one of the female ones, out of my sight. Who was that? We had been alone, it must be paramedics, I’d been found and taken to hospital. I was in accident and emergency, that explained the number of them, my squad would have been called as well.

This was good, despite what had happened I was alive and once I got myself sorted out, I could tell them who my attacker was. The person we had been looking for; he now had another charge to add to his long list of offences. OK, I’d been injured but I would recover, it would be worth it.

I should never have been injured. When I’d spotted his car outside the warehouse, I should have waited for backup. My mistake. I had known that as soon as I had been forced to retreat into the corner, dodging the thrusting blade until I had run out of room. But now, things were all going to work out.

There was a brief flash of light away to one side of me, it made me blink. They must be taking photographs of my injuries.

“Where am I?” I shouted, but all that came out was an unformed cry.

“Perhaps it’s time for a meal,” said another voice. What were they talking about? Food was unimportant, just get me better, so I can bring him to justice. I had his name, it needed to be told.

I must have been lying down on my back, all I could see was the ceiling, the white strip lights under frosted plastic covers. I tried to move my arms, it felt like I had no control over them. My legs were the same. Had the knife stroke paralysed me? I couldn’t even lift my head.

“Here, let me,” said the first voice.

I was grabbed around the waist, while another hand went under my head, at the back. I was rising, my neck felt useless; as if it was unable to support the weight of my head. Before I knew what was happening, my face was smothered in warm flesh.

“Isn’t she a beautiful baby?” said the second voice.

That was where the panic set in. I tried to push myself away so that I could see what was going on, but my arms and legs refused to cooperate.

I howled in frustration, what had happened to me? I wasn’t a baby, never mind a girl. Less than thirty minutes ago, I’d been a twenty-seven-year-old male detective. I’d been investigating a criminal gang, unfortunately, I’d been stabbed by their leader.

What was I doing here?

I heard a woman’s voice, “her name is Suzan,” she said, “Suzan Grace.”

I hope you enjoyed that. Next week, I’ll be sharing the final contender, Crime of the Century.

You can read last week’s post, where I talk about my novel, My Sister Alex, by clicking HERE

Do you want to know where it goes from here? Is this what I should be working on this November?

Why not comment below and give me your thoughts?

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