Noodle ArmMature

These are just first-person narratives of the various characters in my novel. I decided they needed more personality, so here goes...


My name is... well I would tell you my name if I knew it. Most people I know call me John Doe, although there aren't that many people I know. There aren't many people here anymore. There were lots of people here years ago, so I was told. See that's the thing: I've got no goddamn memories of "years ago". All I've got are the facts the people who call me John Doe spit out at me. If you can't guess already, I've got a bit of amnesia.

It's hard to complain now. I've realized after almost a year of searching for that missing part of me that it's just not there. The most I've got is this 'me'. Those two little letters that come out to be something with so much more meaning than I have ever granted. No "Bob" or "Joe" or whatever other half there once was. I used to think of myself that way, as just a half. Sometimes I still do, and the depression comes in little waves of self-doubt and denial. It's gotten better though.

The people I know say it's a blessing though. I still can't see how, but they say it's because I can't remember those traumatic years they all suffered through. One of my better friends apparently suffers from PTSD. I have the sneaking suspicion that most people I know do. They get all jittery when I ask questions. Ignorance is bliss I guess. 

Anyway, this letter is supposed to be an introduction to me. Our little group has decided to keep a record of each one of us and what we're like. I think it's because it's hard for them to live without the memory of someone in their past, namely their families. You can just imagine how I feel...

Anyway this is about me. I'm kind of average looking, I guess. I've got a stubbly beard coming on nice right now, and brown hair that gets really bad bed head. I'm also male, if that hasn't already become apparent. I'm about...well, I don't know my age either, but people say I look around my thirties or early forties. Brown eyes. 

What else?

Even though I don't know who I was in the past, I've got a pretty good picture of who I am now. Before I knew that, I was always confused, sometimes depressed, unsure and sort of incompetent. Now I know I'm Noodle Arm.

Yes, that's right, Noodle Arm. It's a stupid nickname Little Jim gave me almost a year ago when things were still tough. Back then I was really oblivious. Little Jim gave me a direction and a name. The kid's like a son to me now, although I'll be damned if I ever admit it to his face. If it weren't for Little Jim I'd have died lost by now. 

So, I suppose that's all. In the end, I didn't have much to tell in the first place. I'm sure in my past life I had some sort of job, family or something else to classify myself by, but now I just have 'me'. I'm Noodle Arm, and I'm a survivor of the end of the world. 

The End

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