Jack Henry couldn't recall the last time Rose had remembered something. He knew it had been a while. Alzheimer's disease was gradually robbing her of her memory and Henry was forced to watch as the times they had shared together faded from her once-bright green eyes and became confined solely to the dusty pages of photo albums. Looking around the room, he realised that the whole place was dusty; when was the last time the house had been cleaned? He just didn't have the time or the will to do it anymore.Jack by cality
Rose stirred in her chair and, kneeling stiffly, he placed a gnarled hand gently on her arm, the fluffy fabric of her lilac dressing gown soft between his fingers.
"What's the ... clock?" mumbled Rose. She clutched the armrests with bony fingers and struggled to sit up straighter.
Henry swallowed. He could see her blue veins clearly beneath the pale gossamer skin. "It's half past nine."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, panicking. "I had I had to ... to meet someone ..." s
MemoriesThe first she heard of her mother's death was when her sister, Karen, telephoned her. Car crash, Karen had said brusquely, before hanging up.Memories by cality
Now, she watched as the flames ate hungrily through the walls of their childhood home. A broken match lay in the grass by her bare feet.
Salam. That means peace.|
I am from Pakistan. A Muslim. I try to document life. I take photos and I write. I own a Nikon D3100 since 2011. I have traveled alot in my yesteryears but I haven't been able to much in these past 3 years. Back and forth in those cities that I have known or try to be familiar with. I study; pursuing engineering, graduation by '15. It has been amazing here, on . I have met wonderful people, exchanged ideas and grew as a person, human and artist. Shukariya for being here. And a wave to Makola94
Be not entangled in this world of days and nights;
Thou hast another time and space as well. – Allama Iqbal.