He turned slowly, taking in the wreckage of the car, the deep gouges in the earth where it had left the road. His heart pounded, each beat louder than the last.

“I don’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t remember.”

The words felt thin. Useless.

A gust of wind stirred the trees, and with it—

The music returned.

Soft at first. A distant echo.

Then stronger.

Voices rising again in that same mournful harmony, wrapping around him like a shroud.

Derek froze.

“No,” he whispered.

But the requiem only grew louder, swelling inside his mind until it drowned out everything else—the rain, the wind, even his own breathing.

He pressed his hands to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Make it stop.”

The voices climbed, reaching for something final, something inevitable—

And in that terrible, beautiful sound, one thought broke through the chaos.

Not a memory.

I ran down an unfamiliar corridor in a hospital on the outskirts of Williamsville. The phone call had came late in the afternoon and the doctor had been so vague it unnerved me.

“My husband Derek Landly was in an accident out on Highway nineteen?” I asked the nurse behind the station. I got a call from a Doctor Hunt?

“Yes, let me page him for you. You’re his wife?”

“Yes, Kathy, Kathy Landly.

Doctor John Hunt was tall and lean and dressed in a white lab coat that made him resemble a ghost.

“Mrs Landly?” he said and extended a hand.

“Let’s go sit over here.” he gestured to a nearby bench along the wall.

“Where’s my husband? Is he hurt?” I stammered.

“He isn’t physically hurt. We can’t find any head trauma.” he hesitated for a moment.”But he’s lost his memory. He’s got some bruises and a few cuts from the broken glass. His car apparently went off the road and flipped over. It’s not typical for a person to loose their memory from an accident.”

I stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said carefully, “I’d expect to see some form of neurological injury. There isn’t one.” He paused. “Did you husband eat of drink anything unusual before the accident?

I shook my head. “He didn’t even have coffee before he left this morning. He was going to a funeral of a dear friend.”

I swallowed. “Where is he?” I asked again my voice gathering strength.

“He’s in the ER. I’ll take you to him in a moment. But first there is something you need to know.” he took a deep breath. “He isn’t physically hurt and we can’t find any head trauma. But, as I said his memory has been wiped clean by something he either experienced during the accident or consumed prior to it.”

I gaped. “What? He’s got amnesia?”

“That word will work but I don’t think it quit fits what has happened. Something traumatic has happened to him other than the accident. I’m hopeful that seeing you will help.” he got to his feet.

“ER bay four. Right this way,”

He sat on a gurney, a band aid on his right hand and a gauze bandage on his left temple. He stared at the floor as if it held some secret that needed to be revealed.