Photo by Julian Lates (jlates) on Unsplash
Flying High
As the needle touched vinyl, exuberant pop-punk blasted from the speakers. Julian Bolesław was having a fantastic birthday. Thirty wasn’t too old for fun but was mature enough to make smart decisions. Julian believed he was on his way to becoming a successful record producer able to provide for the little boy he and Úlfr had just adopted from India.
“Hey Pop, it’s time for your pills.”
Julian brushed his white hair back from his face and took the young man’s hand.
“Have we met before?” he asked.
“It’s Ashok, Pop.”
“That’s nice. I have a little son named Ashok.”
notes
I didn't submit this story to Dragon Soul Press. From my point of view, few things are more horrific than dementia, but I didn't feel the story was visceral enough to be considered horror.
No, I didn't publish a drabble yesterday. If you recall, I'm not sharing drabbles from my current project because I will be selecting fifteen of those to submit to Dragon Soul Press for their 2024 drabble anthology, The Fear Doctor. These drabbles are the ones I created this April for submission to The Damned. There are only thirty of them and I've taken one off the table because it's simply too contentious. I didn't submit it, and the only other person to see it is my brother.
Pick up your copy of The Damned here:
http://books2read.com/DamnedDrabbles
Oh, that excerpt hit me right in the heart! The deterioration of the mind as we age has to be the worst ailment to suffer (even though some things we wouldn't mind forgetting!).
ReplyDeleteNothing like the feeling of a parent slipping. I know that it will begin soon with either one of our parents here. Seeing it with one already. Repeated comments or stories told that have been forgotten they were told. Subtle, but the tell tale signs more to come. Can feel your characters heartbreak, though it is not yet gotten to in the story.
ReplyDeleteThis really got to me. Very well done.
ReplyDelete