Little Wisps
A Story Every Day in 2024 May 27th 148/366
"You're a fool! What were you thinking?"
He's right. I am a fool and an old one at that. I was thinking, or at least, I think I was thinking about, oh, it escapes me now, but I know that it was important and so, I was focused on that, whatever it was.
"Let's get your hand under the tap, quick!"
Oh, that water's really cold! Oh, it's almost as bad as the burning. Yes, it seered, so sharp, and I can remember wondering what I'd done. I must have put it on something hot. Did I forget the thingy? I did that once when I was little. I picked up a kettle and the lid wasn't on properly and I hadn't noticed and the steam was bursting out the top, like an angry word and it hit my hand and I dropped it, and oh, my mother did go mad.
"There. The water's helping. Let's just keep your hand there now."
I can feel it tingling, tingling with hot and cold. What did I forget? I want to dry my hands.
"Just leave it there, just a bit more and then, we'll have a look at it."
I'm doing more and more strange things of late. The other day I watered the plants with bleach or at least, that's what Glenn said I did. He came home from golf and I was pouring Domestos into the ficus we have in the lounge. He asked me what I was doing and I looked down and saw that I wasn't holding a jug. I think I'd left it somewhere. I knew I had to clean the toilet and had picked up bleach instead, I suppose.
"There we go, love. You sit there. I don't think you've got too much damage. I caught you just in time."
I won't be able to catch anything. My hand is hurting.
"I'll sort the dinner, love. You just sit there."
I don't know what I'd do without Glenn. I don't like it when he leaves the house.
I'm losing myself. Glenn says I'm okay. My mind....
Little wisps. Trying to grasp. Disappearing into nothing, just like the steam of that kettle.
***
366 words
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The Message I Received at 3:17 AM That Changed Everything
It was 3:17 AM when my phone buzzed. I wasn’t expecting any messages at this hour, and yet, there it was—a notification that made my heart skip a beat. The sender’s number was unfamiliar, a string of digits that didn’t seem to exist. At first, I thought it was a prank or a wrong number. But as I stared at the screen, a shiver ran down my spine. The night was silent except for the faint hum of my air conditioner. I had been reading on the couch, a cup of coffee growing cold beside me, when the message arrived. The glow from the phone screen illuminated my face in the otherwise dark room, and the words on it were simple, yet terrifying: “I know what you did.” My first reaction was disbelief. Who could know? And what exactly did they mean? I quickly checked my call log, my messages, even my social media—but nothing seemed out of place. My mind raced through every memory, every small secret I thought I had buried safely. Nothing made sense. I tried to brush it off. Maybe it was just a spam message, or someone trying to scare me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the unease. Another buzz. Another message. “Check the drawer under your desk.” I froze. My desk. The one place I kept my old journals, letters, and random keepsakes. Hesitation gripped me, but curiosity got the better of fear. I walked over to the desk, my steps slow and deliberate, trying to avoid making a sound. The drawers were ordinary, the top one containing my stationery. But the second drawer… it was slightly open. I hadn’t left it that way. My hands trembled as I pulled it fully open. Inside was an envelope, yellowed with age, no name on it, no stamp. Just my initials written in hurried handwriting. I picked it up, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was familiar—it was my own. I had no memory of writing this letter, yet reading it sent chills through me. The message inside described events from a week ago, tiny choices I had made, conversations I had forgotten… and ended with a warning: “If you ignore this, everything will be revealed.” Panic set in. I checked the room again. Every light, every corner, every shadow seemed alive. The air felt heavier, as if something unseen was watching me. My phone buzzed again, this time with a single word: “Now.” I didn’t know what to do. Should I call the police? Should I delete everything? My instincts screamed to run, but I couldn’t leave the envelope behind. Something about it demanded attention, a silent command that I couldn’t ignore. Slowly, I unfolded the paper again. The words seemed to shift, almost as if the letter itself were alive. Memories I had blocked came rushing back—the lie I told my best friend, the small theft at a local store I thought no one noticed, the message I sent to someone I shouldn’t have. All of it documented here, perfectly detailed. How was this possible? How could anyone know so much? Suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped. My breath became visible in the faint light of the phone. I thought I saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye, but when I turned, nothing was there. My phone buzzed once more. Another message: “You can’t hide anymore.” Fear turned into a strange clarity. I realized that this was more than a threat—it was a reflection. The envelope, the messages, the unknown sender… it wasn’t about someone else. It was about me. About the parts of myself I had ignored, the secrets I thought I could bury, and the truth I had avoided facing. I spent the rest of the night going through everything I had ever hidden, every journal, every memory, every tiny choice that made me who I was. By morning, I felt exhausted but different. The fear hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted into understanding. I couldn’t change the past, but I could face it—and maybe, just maybe, write a better future. To this day, I don’t know who sent the first message at 3:17 AM. Some nights, I still feel the chill when my phone buzzes, a reminder that the past never truly leaves us. But I also know this: sometimes, the scariest messages lead to the most important revelations. And every time I think I’ve escaped my past, I check my phone… just in case.
By Baseer Shaheen 2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (12)
So poignant, Rachel. Your word choice is pristine here, and you truly capture the dread, confusion, and fear of such tragic mental deterioration.
Rachel, the way you take an everyday event and make your reader feel attached and invested in the characters experiencing them is amazing! Bravo!
Rendered so tenderly, without sentimentality. Love your story, though it tugs at my heart, which of course means, well written!!!
You’re so good at taking snippets of life and making them life itself. That’s talent.
Very well done and very sad. The confusion coupled with the awareness that something is amiss is absolutely heartbreaking
You capture her confusion due to the loss of short term memory perfectly in your story. I love how you connect the ‘wisps’ of memory back to the steam from the tea pot. Once again you have written an utterly convincing slice of life, Rachel! I loved it!
It is heartfelt. A great job!
Dementia is a terrible trick. Great job of describing it.
Really sad story:(
So sadly sweet… with Glenn trying his best. Effective stop, start thoughts… ‘My mind.... Little wisps. Trying to grasp. Disappearing into nothing, just like the steam of that kettle.’
Considerable pathos is conjured by this narrative; the choice of the first person point of view was shrewd.
This was so sad 🥺 I wish I would be as patient as Glenn if the need ever arises