How frightening is it to enter a room and be confronted by the unknown, the unwanted, the uninvited - ghosts. Perhaps it is more frightening to be the family and friends coming to the realization the apparitions or ghosts are the result of a loved one entering the fog, the loss of memory, loss of faculties due to the onset of Alzheimer's.
A dog barks and rouses me from a trance-like walk. Where am I? This is a residential area and I no longer see the lights of the restaurant where I ate, I did have something to eat didn't I? Well I am not hungry so... yes, I must have had something to eat.
A sense of foreboding comes over me as I peer intently behind me. Is someone following me? The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I feel a set of eyes on me. Fear envelops me, is 'he' following me? I cross the street for a different vantage point. I still do not... wait... what was that? Did someone or something duck behind that tree? The branches are moving slightly. I pick up my pace, turning frequently to see if I am being followed. At times I do see something that disappears when it comes into the light of the street lamps, I am being followed. What direction am I going? Where am I going? Behind that bush... look there... oh... what was that? Oh God! Are they after me? He is after me?
Street lamps light up the block and most of the homes have muted lights visible through curtains. None of the homes are familiar to me. My breath comes rapidly. Shall I go to a door and ask for shelter from my pursuer? No, I must get back to the safety of my house. My house, where is my house? I look at the street sign at the end of the block and do not recognize the name. Oh God..., Don't panic! Where am I? OK, OK, calm down, breathe... I am at the end of a block. Which direction should I go? Did I come from that way? What direction is that? Maybe it is best I go back the way I came. Which way is that? Is it that way? Wait, I didn't cross the street, or did I? Damn, a car is coming, got to get out of the middle of the street. OOF, I trip over the curb striking my chin on the sidewalk. Ouch! God damn... that hurts! Little pebbles penetrate the skin on my right palm as well as my chin.
Rolling onto my back, I lay there to collect myself for a moment. It is a struggle to sit upright and finally I roll onto my knees and push myself up that way. Damn, I'm dizzy; it never used to be so hard to stand up
Someone is watching me. Is it him?
Tires squeal as a car careens to a stop before striking me. "Get out of the street you damned idiot!" The driver yells.
Shoot, gotta watch where I am going. THERE HE IS! IN THE SHADOWS! HE IS LAUGHING AT ME! "Laugh you son of a bitch!" He chases me into traffic, I trip over the curb again. "Help, oh somebody please help me." I whimper. Gathering my strength I scream, "HELP ME!" As loud as I can and roll myself into a little ball, grasping my knees and burying my face in them.
He grabs me by the shoulders as I cover my face and scream; "HELP! AAH! AAAAAAAHH! HELP ME!" "You alright buddy?" He says shaking my shoulders gently, real concern on his face. The driver had stopped and reached out to me.
"If you have aging parents, or know someone with Alzheimer's, this is the book for you."
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Gayle is an American author, father, grandfather and retired Navy Radarman.
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