The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 500 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.
Don’t have many of those any more. Memories, I mean. Got lost somewhere in my mind and they were gone.
Course, my mind is gone, too, so it wasn’t any surprise. But I miss them. Wish I knew what I was like as a six-year old, a twenty-year old, fifty. I’m 101 now, lots of memories gone. Sometimes memories, or the lack of them, are the worst form of torture.
You young folks don’t believe me, I know, but wait until you’re my age. Wish I could remember my wife. Assuming I had one. Maybe I was alone the whole time. If that was the case, I’m glad I don’t remember.
The attendant come up to say it’s time for dinner. I don’t want it. Why eat when you don’t remember it after it’s done?
But I gotta eat otherwise they fuss and fret and threaten. They say I’ve done that before, not eating. Called it a hunger strike, but, course, I don’t remember.
Bet I did some good things in life. Least I hope so. I’d like to be remembered as a good man. Remembered… huh.
Hilarious. Maybe no body else remembers anything either.
“Come on, Mr Connelly, dinner is waiting.” he starts pushing my chair.
Guess my name is Connelly. I wish they call me by my first name. I’d like to know that before I die.
“What were you doing over there, Mr. Connelly?”
“There, by the window.”
“You looked like you were talking to yourself.”
“Phaw…. I ain’t gone that far.”