A Nightmare to Forget

A lightning strike miles away brought Frederick from the depth of rest to a heartbeat that went to full capacity. Sweat poured down his forehead, sliding down clammy skin, through his ivory whiskers, onto the bedsheets beneath. Fear paralysed him momentarily; this is a strange place.

Both eyes frantically scanned, they took time to adjust to the darkened room that presented itself. The décor appeared rustic, wallpaper covered in royal emblems, an oak dresser, hardwood floor and a leather armchair sat next to where he laid. The leather chair sat at an angle, between the bed and a more modern looking door, where a glow emanated beneath its frame.

Nothing was familiar here. Even the pungent scent in the air smelt foreign to memory. The only detail he could grasp an association with, the rainfall pelting against the double-glazed window, and the occasional beat of a branch from a tree to an almost consistent rhythm.

All muscles his nervous system could register blisteringly ached.

“What are they doing to me?” Frederick groaned, he ushered every ounce of his strength to rise out from the bed, and cautiously made way to the door, using pieces of furniture on route to help keep balance along the way.

“I am going to be late for work, Cynthia is going to be worried sick about me. Those mutts aren’t going to feed themselves” he mumbled.

Before Frederick had a chance to grasp the door handle, it slowly slid open. A slender figure dressed in virgin white stood in the doorway and said, “You cannot leave, please return to bed, Mr. Jones”.

Frederick squinted past the figure and saw a poster out in the hallway, it read ‘Dementia Kills…’.

He then realized, the nightmare would continue, and this heartbreaking truth, he would soon forget.