Thursday, July 26, 2012

Flash Fiction #27



Each year bits of knowledge leaked from her mind.  Drip by drip, she forgot first where she set down her keys or her cup of coffee.  Next it was the pan on the stove unnoticed by all but the smoke detector.  Then, the way to the post office where she had a box for near thirty years.  Finally it was her son’s name and eventually her own.

But she never forgot him, for he was her first and best love. 

In the last days she sometimes would pat her leg and call to him, “Buddy, come here buddy boy.  Buddy…”

Leave a comment here or on any of my older posts…I still check them and enjoy reading your feedback.  Please include a link to your blog as well, so I can see what you have to say.  And, whether or not you are a #FridayFictioneer, be sure and check out the website of our fearless leader and hundred word wizard, Madison Woods!

29 comments:

  1. very poignant... my father in the depth of his Alzheimer's remembered all the songs from the old country and would sing all the words with us..tho' he did not know us. Thanks.
    You asked for links back:http://thewritersvillage.wordpress.com/?p=1817&preview=true

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    1. Despite all of the study and research, one never knows which knowledge/memories stay and which leave. It's strange and sad. I'm off to read yours.

      ~Susan

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  2. sorry. the actual link is:
    http://thewritersvillage.wordpress.com/2012/07/26/poli-sci-friday-fictioneers-part-1/

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  3. sweet, painful... fearful.... very nicely done

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    1. Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment. I appreciate it.

      ~Susan

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  4. I can almost see the black dog's ears pricked up, his eyes shining... Telling description, a good sense of time.
    best,
    Lorelei
    http://westcoastwriters.blogspot.com/2012/07/friday-fictioneers-faucet-fancies.html

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    1. Sometimes I think our pets keep our hearts longer and truer than our human companions. Thank you for stopping by!

      ~Susan

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  5. That was such a nice piece - I enjoyed the bit about knowledge leaking from her mind. Really well done. (Typo 'buy' the smoke detector)

    I hope she really could see Buddy.

    http://castelsarrasin.wordpress.com/2012/07/27/sweet-water-friday-fictioneers-july-2012/

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    1. Doh! Thank you. For as many times as I read it, you would think I'd notice. I fixed it. Thank you for reading and I'm glad you liked this one. Ps - all dogs go to heaven...

      ~Susan

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  6. Such a bittersweet piece. Well done.

    http://whimsicalquestsofacuriousmind.blogspot.com/

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    1. Thank you, Jess. I'm glad you liked it.

      ~Susan

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  7. To me this is more chilling than some of the horror/scifi stories. Too much reality. Great use of the prompt using her mind as the container slowing dripping its contents.
    www.rochelle-wisoff.blogspot.com/2012/07/snarl.html

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    1. I think this reality is the greatest fear of many. When we lose the contents of our mind, what is left? It is more than a bit depressing...I agree. (Thank you for reading and commenting, though).

      ~Susan

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  8. Metaphorical!
    Very beautiful indeed! I felt an ache reading this. Great work, thanks for sharing!

    Parul
    http://faitaccompli.wordpress.com/2012/07/27/bo-peep-in-the-city/

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    1. I'm glad you liked it, Parul. Thank you for the kind words. I'm off to read yours...

      ~Susan

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  9. Again, I agree with Rocelle that this is a true horror story, not aliens. The sum of our fears. Lovely, in a terrible way.

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    1. Thank you...I almost didn't post it because it seemed too...oh, I don't know...sad, I guess. But, I did. It was the first thing that came into my mind, so I followed it to the end.

      ~Susan

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  10. Dear Susan,

    This was one of the most original takes on the prompt. There is no fate worse than the slow, insidious loss of one's self through the drip, drip , drip of our personality leaving us as we age. Shoot me first, thank you.

    I'm reading your chapters right now, hiking through the trash, never fear. I'll be in touch.

    Aloha

    Doug

    http://ironwoodwind.wordpress.com/2012/07/27/waiting-on-a-moment/

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    1. Thank you, Doug. I think we all fear losing our "self" as we age. I appreciate your "extra" reading too. I'm a little behind this week, but I'm finally off to read yours.

      ~Susan

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  11. A moving illustration of how life can end up passing you by simply because you don't recognise it anymore. Well done.

    http://www.lazuli-portals.com/flash-fiction/elixir

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    1. Thank you for stopping by, Joanna. I'm off to read your fiction.

      ~Susan

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  12. Beautiful sad and poignant metaphorical take on the prompt. I love the twist at the end. Well done Mine is here: http://readinpleasure.wordpress.com/2012/07/27/fridayfictioneers-aqua-madness/

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    1. I hoped a few people would think she was thinking about a past human love. I'm glad you liked the twist.

      ~Susan

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  13. Reminds me of Odysseus recognizing his dog when he finally reached home. Sad and powerful.

    Here's mine:

    http://glossarch.wordpress.com/2012/07/27/there-will-be-rain-friday-fictioneers/

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    1. Oh yes! Of course. I didn't think of that. Thank you for reading and commenting.

      ~Susan

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  14. I thought it was beautifully tragic - the sort of tragedy you may meet only once in your life but still one that rings true to so many different people. Harrowing, and a clever (and certainly a vey different) response to the prompt. And only in 100 words!

    Here's mine:

    http://chriswhitewrites.wordpress.com/2012/07/28/dry/

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    1. Thank you, Chris. I'm glad you found this piece worthy. My great-grandmother, at the end, did not recognize me but did remember riding to school in a horse-drawn carriage as a little girl and often spoke of it with a smile on her face.

      ~Susan

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  15. Hi Susan,
    Here it is Tuesday night, the eleventh hour, just before the flash fiction cycle starts all over, and I'm just getting around to your story. I liked the way the photo served as a metaphor for the draining of memories from her mind. The ending was a "Rosebud" moment. Thanks for reading and commenting on my story.
    Ron

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    1. Glad to, Ron. As always, you are one of my favorites - wouldn't want to miss it. (And, thank you for your kind assessment of my story).

      ~Susan

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