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Summary
Irene Hill wakes up in a hospital after an accident she can’t remember. All she knows is that it’s the 1940’s, she’s missing two years of memories, and she’s lost her mind. After all, with two sets of memories from different lives, what else could she be but mental?
“But the nineteen forties were nearly a century ago?” is her first thought, and isn’t that absurd? She’s probably in shock. Tag on the fact that there's a war, she’s survived the Blitz, and saw her mom dead after the air raids, it’s no wonder she’s losing her marbles. She breathes, feels the lasting heartbreak and hollowness of grief and the utter, terrifying sense of wrongness.
“It is the nineteen forties,” she reassures herself.
But then why does she know that the war will end in 1945? Why does everything look outdated? The dangling ceiling fans conflict with memories of florescent lights. Stiff metal cots clash with the familiarity of plush, adjustable beds. Flashes of something pass—memories of things impossible.
She grips her shirt’s hem, feeling linen grind into her palm. Maybe her mother’s chatter about past-er, future lives held some truth.
Or perhaps she’s gone around the bend.
Series
- Part 1 of Silver Strings