Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding
The telephone call came at 6:04 p.m. I remember the exact time because the national news was beginning and the ringing of the telephone irritated me.
It was Sara. “Jeff passed away last night,” she cried.
I was speechless. My mind going from full speed ahead to a full stop in a nanosecond.
Jeff was diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia four years ago. I was a witness to this disease’s rapid progress through his mind and body.
We were both terrible golfers. But Jeff started to have difficulty keeping his score. As the disease progressed we would tell him what he scored. He would say, “That sounds about right.” At one point he took a swing at an imaginary ball. He went through all the motions: put the ball on the tee, took a practice swing, then took a full swing with a beautiful follow through. But he forgot to take the ball out of his pocket. “Mike, you forgot the ball!” Mike went through the same procedure again without the ball.
As this terrible disease progressed he would lose the ability to recognize family and friends, forget how to use eating utensils. Four years from diagnosis to death. Jeff was 62 year old.
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This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand
His carving could wait. Irving was late for service. Entering the parking lot he heard gunshots.
Rushing into the building he saw David and Cecil face down inside the entrance. The brothers were always first to meet worshipers when they arrived. Twenty feet in front of the brothers was Rosie. “Rosie, Rosie, 97 years young sure to make 101” was the familiar chant that we sang to her. This can’t be happening. To his right were Bernice and Sylvan. They were married in this same synagogue 60 years ago.
Another shot rang out. Irvin never heard it.
This post is written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
According to the dashboard clock on his car it was 7:09 p.m. when he entered the motel parking lot. He had driven over 400 miles today and he was weary. Even the sunset looked dull to his tired eyes.
Their marriage had been deteriorating for the last year so it didn’t surprise him when she ordered him to leave their home early this morning.
He took out his cell phone. No new calls or messages. He realized that he did not know if that was bad or good. He knew one thing. She had expressed her anger by flinging his phone across the room where it hit with a dull thunk against the kitchen cabinet.
The phone had caused his troubles. He had left it home when he went for his morning walk. Upon returning his wife informed him he had a message, which she had overheard, from Pauline, describing in detail their last time in bed.
Photo Credit === Danny James
The pain was quickly becoming unbearable.
Photo Credit Danny James
I look behind and shout to my family “Hurry up and stay together.”
Being forced to leave your home is not easy.
The hardest part so far was sneaking under the wire fence.
Susan lost her sweater.
Sweaters can be replaced.
When the boat capsized we lost Ramon.
Now that was hard.
Now they want us to board the train.
I remember stories from my history lessons.
Some actually got the water from the showers.
“Don’t take the train.”
I was in the kitchen alone.
I heard a sound in the front room.
As I turned toward the sound I saw a shadow cross the floor.
As I moved forward the shadow it moved father to the right.
Two more steps and the shadow continued to be just out of sight.
One more step. It stopped. I saw a hooded figure with a sickle.
I recognized the face of course.
It was you, my wife!
The anomaly was very hard for him to understand in the beginning.
His soon to be wife, Carole, had just introduced him to her sister, Carole.