This weeks words are:
feverish, pencil, fabricated, typewriter, mix, sensible
penalty, caution, senility, lie, patched, trees.
Dementia, senility…call it what you would, it was a thief that stole the very essence of a person. Darren had watched it take his grandfather and his father from him. Now he, himself, had been handed the dreaded diagnosis and would pay the penalty of the loss of himself. Every generation had been affected at a younger age than the previous. “What of his two boys?”, he wondered.
With feverish determination he hunched over his typewriter (he had long since forgotten all his on line passwords and besides the computer frightened him) as he fabricated line by painful line what he hoped was a sensible missive to the Provincial Health Regulators outlining the seriousness of the disabling condition and appealing for more research.
He had rewritten his letter so many times he was afraid to think of how many trees had to die just to provide him with paper. Patching the sheets of paper together with tape he stopped suddenly and shook his head. What was doing, again? He turned once more to the typewriter and stared at it, puzzled. Sighing, he reached for a pencil. He could still remember how to write, couldn’t he? He hoped that wasn’t a lie he was telling himself.
Gathering up his papers he approached the stranger in his kitchen with caution.
“Excuse me, miss? Could you please look at this and tell me if it makes sense?”
Edith blinked back tears as she took the crumpled pages of rambling gobbled gook and smiled tremulously at her husband.
“You’ve been working so hard on this. Wouldn’t you like to have a cup of tea and something to eat?”
My apologies, I just couldn't mix in the word 'mix'.