A wrinkled hand slammed a smooth photograph up against a magnetic board. I stared at the image in morbid fascination. It was of a middle-aged man, his face was a sickly blueish hue, and blood was smeared across his cheek and forehead.
He had been murdered—a stabbing. Pretty boring stuff really. I've always thought that in the extremely hypothetical situation where for whatever reason I was going to kill someone, I'd do it in a far more interesting way.
Maybe you could tie them to a chair and blast their least favourite song on repeat for hours and hours with the radio just out of their reach, and then when they finally break free of their constraints and manage to turn it off, the button detonates!
I smiled to myself, that would be something.
"Julie, concentrate, for goodness' sake!" A voice scolded me harshly.
I look down gormlessly to see my boss' mug overflowing with steaming tea. His hand was throbbing red, but his face looked even hotter.
"You want to do important work like this, but you can't even keep your head focused pouring a freaking cup of tea!"
His face was only an inch from mine, so close that I could smell his rancid breath. I wondered if the reek of his halitosis was in any way like that of a rotting corpse. Everyone kept telling me that I couldn't go near the bodies, they said the shock would be too much for my 'temperamental disposition'—whatever that meant.
"See!" He flicked my forehead with his long finger, "You can't even pay attention when I'm shouting a centimetre from your face."
I'm not an easy person to deal with, that I know, but I didn't deserve that level of disrespect. I decided I couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge him.
He narrowed his bushy eyebrows waiting for a response, but nothing came. Sighing deeply, he flumped into a spinny chair and sailed across the room.
He put a hand against his forehead, "I can't cope with this anymore. You're done, when your probation period is finished your time here is over."
That caught my attention, "But sir, I want to become a-"
"Detective? Dream on. Crime solving work requires deep thought and concentration, two things that you're extremely lacking in."
Ouch! Well, that didn't hurt at all. I opened my mouth to speak but I felt too fired up for words, like the anger growing inside my gut was overshadowing my ability to speak.
The only the thing I could manage to do was lob the pot of tea directly at the magnetic board. The liquid splattered out in all different directions, leaving ink running and policemen fuming.
I left the room in a flurry of angry limbs and loud stomping. What was even the point of trying to behave anymore! Tears pooled in my eyes, but I quickly tried to blink them away.
There was a small cupboard, with coats and a chair that I went to relax inside when things got too overwhelming during my internship. I immediately jumped into the dark room and stared out the tiny window into the hallway.
Maybe he was right, maybe someone as vacant and scatter-brained as me had no hope in a profession so serious and uptight. After all, it hadn't been as glamorous as I had expected. I had visions of being eccentric like Sherlock or suave like Poirot but at the end of the day, real life wasn't much fun.
My boss' office door clicked open and shut across the hall, a draft swinging it in and out again. It was almost as if it was beckoning me.
I stepped out of the dark room and tiptoed across the hallway. Looking around cautiously, I stepped inside and took in my surroundings.
He was a weird guy with weird obsessions. Stuffed ferrets and taxidermy eagles sat perched on every flat surface. There were also animal parts, or at least what I hoped were animal parts, ruminating in murky jars. And to top it all off, the constant sounds of whirring and buzzing from his numerous odd contraptions.
"Whoops," I said mischievously, knocking a jar off the side with a forefinger.
And then, as the rambunctious thoughts started swirling through my mind I decided with a smile on my face to swap the heads of his precious animals.
"Sorry mate, no hard feelings." I said, yanking the head off a ferret and shoving it onto the body of an eagle.
I moved away from my handiwork with satisfaction, setting my sights on one last thing to tamper with. My eyes landed on a large piece of equipment that hummed with electrical sound, on its front was a big round dial with all kinds of strange inscriptions and lettering. It was a baffling machine that's use I couldn't fathom, but it looked important and that was all that mattered as I tore through the sheets of metal and strings of wire.
Grinning, I dove my hands into the centre of the mass of flashing parts and intricate apparatus.
My whole body jolted, going as rigid as ice. I tried to scream but no sound escaped as electricity coursed through my veins. I shook violently, having no control over the endless spasms.
As far as interesting ways to die went, getting electrocuted by a strange machine in your boss' office wasn't the worst but I had hoped for a more gladiatorial death; like a one-on-one dual with a rhino or something to do with aliens. Yeah, cancel the rhino, aliens are way cooler.
And then, mid-musing, everything went black and for perhaps the first time in my existence, my thoughts ended.
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I was awoken by the smell of grass and mildew, the first sign I wasn't in a hospital. The next sign was the huge, vine-covered four-poster cushioning my backside. And the final sign happened to be the three frantic women that scuttled to my bedside.
They were all dressed like they'd just been at a Lord of the Rings convention, and they ran over to me in a flurry of fanciful gowns.
"Thank goodness you're alright." The oldest woman grabbed my hands, tears in her eyes.
Instinctively I pulled back, weary of her touch.
"I'm afraid the old brain isn't doing so well today, who are you and where am I?" I asked pensively.
The younger girls gasped melodramatically, snivelling into their handkerchiefs.
"You don't recognise your own mother?" She sobbed, hanging her head into the thick blankets.
I sighed internally, of course I had been transmigrated, why wouldn't I have been? It seemed I had swapped consciousness with myself in another timeline, another era or maybe someone else entirely. I suppose the specifics didn't matter, transmigration was awesome and my life sucked before this anyway. I would've preferred a more Victorian period but this medieval-like one would work.
"Why is she so vacant, she's not going to collapse again is she?" One of the younger women fretted.
"No, no don't worry, I was just thinking." I reassured her, "Don't be alarmed but I think I've damaged my head and lost all of my memories so some introductions would be splendid." I said, clapping my hands together.
Expectedly, the three women burst into tears.
"I'm your mother, Marian Dudley." The oldest woman chocked through the tears, "And these are you're younger sisters, Freya and Jocelyn."
"Wonderful, nice to meet you and I am..." I trailed off.
"Oh, you're Joan, Joan Dudley." My new mother's voice squeaked with emotion.
I shuffled from underneath the thick covers and moved to sit up. Immediately my head throbbed and the world spun in circles around me, I lifted a hand to massage my forehead and was shocked by the texture I found there. Smooth and cold like a sheet of plastic.
"What is that?" I said, poking at my forehead.
"She doesn't remember graftweed!" Mother exclaimed.
"Calm down mother," Jocelyn said softly, she was pretty girl with a kind, round face, and dark doe eyes, "It's a special plant that's used to replace human skin while it heals, don't take it off! We applied it after your tumble down the stairs."
"A plant like that exists?"
"Many strange plants have appeared over the last couple of years."
My mind was sprinting like an Olympian; imagine all the things you could do with a plant that can act as human skin. You could peel all your skin off, replace it with the graftweed and then you would have green skin and you could convince everyone you were an alien from outer space!
My hand flew again to my forehead, "Is my head green?"
"No don't worry, the graftweed camouflages to its surroundings." Jocelyn answered, her face amused.
Damn it. I kind of liked the thought of having a green forehead.
"Forget that." Mother interrupted, "How are you feeling now?"
"Oh alright, it's not every day you wake up with no memories, but I'll get used to it."
"You're acting so strange." Mother cried.
"We were supposed to be traveling to attend a royal banquet but if you're not well enough I suppose you'll have to stay here." Freya said, wiping at dry cheeks with her long sleeve.
I smirked, she was a horrendous actress, there were no real tears at all! Clearly there was some kind of drama going on here between Freya and my body's old occupant.
"Nope. I feel as right as rain, in fact I think a good old banquet is just what the doctor ordered!" I countered, stretching energetically.
Mother still looked perplexed but the worry on her face ebbed and she nodded slowly.
"Well, if you feel you can make the journey, we'll leave at sunrise tomorrow but in the meantime you should sleep some more. Hopefully your memory will recover with rest but even if it doesn't the royal court have some excellent physicians." She comforted as she placed two gentle hands on my shoulders and laid me back down again.
It was an odd feeling for me, receiving a mother's love. My mother from my previous life had never shown me so much consideration. I closed my eyes, relishing in the care for a few more seconds before falling back into sleep thinking of royal banquets and Lord Of The Rings.