➵ Burning Memory || WCE !!

Instructions

welcome to my writing contest entry ! this story is based off of the song 'it's Just a Burning Memory' by The Caretaker. The reason I chose this song is because when I first listened to 'Everywhere At The End Of Time', it scared me. Dementia is a very scary thing, and it definitely deserves the recognition it gets. I really don't know how accurate my story is to how dementia is for real people, so if anything seems inaccurate I apologize. So without further ado, here's my story. _________________________________ As I called my daughter, I would look over the calendar on my wall. December 5th, 2003. "Hey mom," My daughter spoke to me through the phone, her voice muffled and static due to my poor connection, "Anthony got admitted into the hospital today." "Why? What happened?" I question, fiddling the curly phone cord in my hand. "Car accident." She mumbled, "He was texting someone on the road 'pparently, he hit another car on the highway." “Oh my, that's horrible!” I gasped, worried tones filling up in my voice, “Is everything alright? He hasn’t died, has he?” “No, he’s not dead, but the injuries were pretty severe,” My daughter answered, her voice coming across quiet, “We want you to come down here to visit him later this week.” “Alright, we can set up a time,” I spoke, “I hope he gets better before I come, please take care of him.” “We will mom.” I woke up in my bed, the moonlight shining through my window curtains, and the wind blowing across the street in tough breezes. You could hear the whistle of the fast spinning wind outside. “... Oh. Must’ve been a dream.” I muttered to myself, cautiously stepping out of my bed and making my way to my kitchen, where cooking supplies were scattered all over the counter tops. “I don’t remember doing any cooking,” I continue to talk to myself, picking up pots and pans from the counters and placing them into my dishwasher, “Must’ve just have forgotten.” After I finished cleaning up my kitchen, I turned on my coffee maker and waited for it to brew up a cup for me to drink. I would look over to the clock on my wall while I wait. “Five is awfully early to be drinking coffee…” I mutter, “I will probably be fine.” As I waited for my coffee machine to stop, my phone started ringing loudly from across the room. I walk over and pick it up off of the wall. “This is Kathy,” I speak into the phone. “Hey mom, it’s me,” My daughter spoke to me, “Why did you never end up coming by last week? Have you been feeling alright?” “I was supposed to come over?” I questioned, “I thought it was a dream.” “What was?” My daughter asked. “...Nothing,” I shake my head lightly and look at my clock as I continue to chat, “How is Anthony doing? Has he gotten any better?” “Not so far, he’s still in a lot of pain.” My daughter mumbled, her voice crackling in the phone. “The doctors think that…” I sat up in my couch, the television across from me playing ‘Golden Girls’. “...What the?” I blurt out, looking around me. “What has been going on recently? I should start taking my meds again…” I step off of the couch, and slide open the blinds covering the window next to me, letting in the sunlight and illuminating my room. “I should probably get to making some food, maybe it’ll get my mind off of things,” I speak to myself, walking over to my kitchen. The first thing I notice stepping into the room was a cup of coffee waiting on the coffee machine. How long has that been sitting there? I pick up the cup and take a sip. It was cold, but it didn’t taste rancid so I still drank it. Once again, my phone would begin to ring. I took a step over to the phone and picked it up off of the wall. I sat at the kitchen table, with a plate in front of me. What? I looked down at what was on the plate. A steak with corn and peas. Since when did I eat meat? I grabbed the silver fork placed next to my plate and I took a bite of the steak. It tasted a bit cold and old. How long ago was this made? Hopefully I didn’t just give myself food poisoning eating that. I got up from the table and looked over at my calendar. June 17th, 2004. I haven’t kept up with the date recently, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve checked the calendar. I begin to walk over to the door of my kitchen, taking a hold of the doorknob and twisting it, pulling the door back. I wake up in a cold sweat, sitting in my bed. I look around the room. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. “...Gosh, I need to pee,” I mumble to myself, pulling the bed sheets off of me and stepping one foot after the other out of bed. I look around my bedroom. Where was my bathroom again? Why has my memory felt so hazy recently? (continued in notes & credits)