A Painful Short Story

I felt queasy as I approached the front door. I could see her standing by the recliner, waiting for me to come into the house. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Photo by Sabine van Erp

“Can you see him?” she whispered.

“It’s too dark in here. I’m going to open the shades.”

“There on the couch. The man with the ax in his head.” She was beginning to unravel.

“And the man next to him with a gun. He’s been there all morning. I can’t stand to look at him. He scares me.” She began to sob. She was shivering all over because she was filled with fear.

All this, because her mind was filled with images that were not real.

“Would you like some ice cream? There’s chocolate.”

“That man has to leave first. He makes my stomach sick.” At this point, she was just quietly whimpering, waiting for me to do something.

“Remember, what you see is only in your mind. It’s not real.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Will you come nap, too?”

“I will.”

We walked into her bedroom, and I tucked her in. We spooned for a little while and I prayed. It makes her really happy when I pray.

She taught me not to cuss. Damn Parkinson’s.

~ Ally