This post was written in response to Sacha Black’s third weekly prompt for 2017 (52 weeks in 52 words).
Sacha will post one prompt a week for 52 weeks, and the challenge is to write a story in just 52 words exactly. Sounds like a fabulous idea. The value of conciseness for a writer is invaluable, as Sacha herself reminds us: ‘The art of being concise is nothing if not a muscle flexing ‘write’ bicep curling device’.
This week’s prompt is to write about Lost Things. I’m afraid I’ve come up with some sad words this time.
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Lost Things
‘My keys?’ Beth asked searching frantically.
‘Tried the first drawer, darling?’ James replied with a smile.
‘Of course!’ She kissed him. ‘Why do you always know where everything is?’
‘Magic.’ James lied, wrapping his arms around her.
He held her tightly.
How would they cope when James became yet another nameless face?
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Alzheimer’s, in any of its many forms, is a cruel disease.
I’ve witnessed its devastating effects in close relatives.
Lost is a word which would identify the feeling.
Patients feel they are living in another world, with other people, unlike anyone they ever knew.
I suppose it’s like taking a step forward and not recognising where you’re going or what you’re seeing, and when you look back there’s nothing there, except a void.
Finally, one day, you look in the mirror, and the only person you were still sure about becomes another stranger, staring back at you.
Devastating for the patients, carers, friends and relatives.
Rereading Jane Eyre 