Dear Avid Reader….

   ….for once I’m just gonna let you get on and read…





I’d known Frank for over nine months. This morning I met him for the first time.


I wandered onto the ward, twenty minutes early for my shift but it had been a pleasant day, the sun shining between fluffy clouds driven by a light cooling breeze had encouraged me to leave my flat an hour earlier and walk up along the canal path to the hospital. Work was a pleasure at the moment as the ‘Unit’ was being relocated and less and less patients were at the old site. Patients! These days we’re meant to call them ‘Clients’ although none of them are paying for their health care.

All of the serious and violent cases have already been transferred into a brand new, ultra-modern building full of secure doors with iris recognition locks, cameras covering every angle and ‘light blue/emotionally passive’ walls. All meant to make both client and carer feel more secure. It’s very pretty and pristine but I, and most of my colleagues, felt the money would have been better spent on more qualified and trained staff to actually tend and care for the client’s actual problems. I guess it’s a difficult thing to put in a brochure to sell to the board?

Begrudgingly I’d changed out of my light summery dress that I’d worn to walk to the hospital into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, donning practical shoes rather than the sandals I’d been wearing before walking onto the ward. A quick scan around the old room, it was in need of some repair but since the new Unit had been given the go-ahead all maintenance except for the absolutely essential had stopped; it looked like there were only three remaining clients in residence. I nodded to my co-worker sitting behind the workstation and wandered over.

“How’s things?” I asked Steph.

“Boring… you’re early? Not got a life?” she replied with a smile.

“You know what they say about being careful what you wish for! I walked here, may have allowed myself a little too much time… I figured three times how long it takes in my Mini. Who knew? Only took me ten minutes longer and I was only strolling!”

“Traffic sure is fucked up in this town!” she uttered the swear word in a whisper out of habit. All of the clients who would have reacted to it, generally an hour long speech or some such, had already moved on. She looked down at the untidy mess of files in front of her, “Mr Williams is out of here at midday, being transferred to Devon so he is closer to his family; that’ll leave with you with just two unless they transfer a couple from upstairs so they can close another ward. To be honest I’ve no idea why they don’t… it’s possible that they’ll forget we’re here and they’ll find us in years time, just cobweb covered skeletons!”

“My, you have been bored all night haven’t you?” I grinned in reply.

“Can you really tell?” I nodded.


By the time I was actually due to start I’d taken the brief ‘hand-over’ from Steph and the other night duty nurse and sent them on their way as my other two colleagues for the day shift entered the ward. John, a six foot-five Jamaican was always a welcome to work with; considering the sometimes fraught nature of our work his size could sometimes be enough to calm a situation before it escalated. Even ‘crazy’ people aren’t always stupid. He handed two coffees to me and our other co-worker, Louise who looked tiny beside him leaning on the Nurses’ station, as I quickly summarized our remaining patients.

“Frank isn’t awake yet?” asked John looking up at the clock reading seven forty-eight. I shook my head in reply.

“Never a good sign,” sighed Louise, “I wonder who we’ll have today?”

I followed their gaze and chewed on the tip of my pen.

Frank was a bit of an oddity. Strictly speaking he wasn’t a ‘mental’ patient, he was actually a surgical patient having been in a serious road traffic accident fourteen months earlier where his wife and four year-old son were both killed instantly and he was left with extreme cranial trauma. After having treated him for a month or so and observing his unusual affliction I had sought out, Melanie, a friend in Male Surgical who had been treated him in those first couple of weeks. It was hardly surprising that even with the various scans they had subjected him too that they had almost released him before he woke up one morning and his world had changed.

They had seen that he had suffered quite a degree of bleeding in and around the Amygdala and the Hippocampus. The surgeons had warned him that there may be some problems with his memory but partly because everyone was treating him with ‘kid-gloves’ due to his recent bereavement and that he had no close family left, the peculiar nature of the injury wasn’t immediately apparent.

Melanie had been called into Frank’s room by a junior Nurse to find Frank lying on his bed curled up in a foetal position crying softly. It seemed he’d had a nightmare and was now in a strange bed and he wanted his ‘Mommy’. “It was weird… all of a sudden we were treating a five year old. We were lucky we had Rosa on duty, she’s got four kids under the age of ten… none of the rest of us are particularly maternal, I guess that’s why we’re in adult Surgery!” Melanie told me.

The small child remained for three days and then on the morning of the fourth day the ‘original’ Frank woke up with no memory of the past three days. Melanie had asked him how he was and as an afterthought asked him his age. That day he had been thirty-eight instead of the forty-six recorded in his medical records. She told me that for the next three months that Frank became a ‘curiosity’ for the Neuro-specialists and she soon realised that none of them had a clue how they could cure him but were far too happy ‘mapping’ his brain with MRI’s and CT scanners each time his memory changed. If they had actually got any conclusive data she was sure and I agreed that they’d still be testing him till he died of old age.

So occasionally Frank would wake up as a small child and even once I saw for myself that he woke as a baby, those were two very trying days! The other fact that led to him to be in our care was that one of his relatives, a cousin I believed, had found out his condition and was busily trying to take control of his ‘estate’, supposedly with the aim of looking after Frank but on one of the few days when he’d had all of his memory he’d managed to get hold of a his solicitor, a Judge and his main doctor and had himself ‘Sectioned’ and his ‘estate’ placed in the Court’s control. “That little shit ain’t getting nothing from me!” he had told the doctor afterwards.

So for the time-being he happily spent his time in the ‘Looney-bin’ as he sometimes put it when the other Clients weren’t in ear-shot.


 I approached Frank’s room wondering who was inside when I heard the ward doors open behind me and nodded to old Mrs Murphy’s son who had just entered through the doors. He nodded in reply with that minimalist way that he had and I almost put off finding out who was in Frank’s room thinking that listening to Sean Murphy’s soft Irish accent could be a whole lot more pleasant than finding a forty-six year old man who had wet his bed and could be quite possibly be crying in a corner. Louise was already leaning across the counter drawing Sean towards her; I noticed a ‘jealous look’ from John that everyone else saw but his co-worker as she brazenly flirted with the small wiry Irishman. Slut I thought and then smiled as I imagined I was probably just as unsubtle when viewed from a remove.

We had all worked out after two month’s that Frank’s memory-state seemed to change whenever he didn’t hear his alarm clock and wasn’t out of his room to join us for a coffee just after hand-over. His personality basically remained the same allowing for the fact that sometimes he was middle-aged and then a sullen thirteen-year old and then a nervous soon-to-be father and then a scared-five year old. “Please… not a baby…” I whispered to the handle of the door before I turned it. I gave one final glance to the Nurses’ station and Sean’s tight ass wrapped up in denim as he stood with his back to me; I turned the door handle and stepped into the room.

Frank was awake and sat on the edge of his bed staring out of the window, his pyjama top discarded upon the ruffles bed clothes beside him and his right hand absent-mindedly tracing the maze of scar tissue on his left forearm. From where I was standing I could also see the three hairless lines across the side of his head denoting the points of entry during the operations that saved his life if not his memory after his crash. “Hi, Frank” I said from the door.

He continued to stare out of the open curtains for a few seconds before turning his head to look at me, “Hi…”

It was obvious that there had been another memory shift and judging by his expression he wasn’t a small child today, “Martine” I answered his unspoken question.

I watched as his eyes moved up and down taking in my body and the casual nature of my clothes, “Hi Martine… err… how long have I been … asleep?”

I smiled and approached the bed, “May I?” I asked indicating the bed beside him, he nodded and I sat down looking out through the window. “If you don’t mind, would you tell me how old you are?”

I felt his eyes upon me but continued to gaze out into the gardens and the old large wall beyond; I was aware of his eyes following mine out through the window before he answered, “Well, yesterday I was twenty-five years old…” he held up his arm and looked at the patchwork of scars circum-navigating his flesh, “…today I’m not so sure. How long have I been asleep?”

I smiled at the question I had heard so many times before, “Actually you’ve only been asleep for about seven hours or so. You haven’t been in a coma; your problem is slightly more complex than that.” I gave him the briefest details of his accident and his true age before explaining the unusual fluidity of his memories and his decision and reasons for having himself ‘sectioned’. I stood from the bed and stepped towards the window looking down at a grounds man watering the flowerbeds encircling the building we were in.

Today he only took a minute to digest the apparently new information before he joined me at the window. “So, that file” he jerked his thumb to the brown folder lying on his bedside table underneath a much thumbed paperback book, “explains my life for the past… twenty years or so?”

“It does, right up until the present day more or less” I answered.

“Is it worth reading or should I just accept… who I am now?”

I chewed on my bottom lip for a full minute before I answered, “It’s a hard one to call… will it change anything? No. Will it satisfy you? Not particularly going by previous times… I know you don’t recall them, but a while back you quoted some film to me after you had read it. Something along the lines of…‘What’s the point in knowledge if it brings no fortune to the wise… or something like that? Seems kinda’ appropriate!”

“Damn that sounds smart, I musta’ learnt a thing or two in the last two decades!” he looked down as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, “I quit smoking as well it seems.”

I laughed in response, “An extreme way to do it…” I turned to face him, “Seventeen days and counting for me.”

The smile that shone from his face made me hope that this time Frank wouldn’t read his file; previous times had indeed brought him no fortune as the full details of what he had lost was revealed to him and if his ‘age’ lasted it generally took him a full two to three days to get over the shock. Sometimes much longer especially if he was a ‘teenager’ although I suspected it was the idea that his life had been stolen from him that played as much of a part as the loss of a family he never knew.

His attention returned to the outside vista, “When I first looked out and saw that wall I did wonder if I was some psychotic schizoid…”

“Not too far from the truth… I mean about the wall. The original hospital was built during the Victorian times so resembled a prison much more than a care facility. We’re a tad more progressive now, we hardly ever electrocute the patients anymore and we have You-tube instead of inviting members of the public into the wards these days!”

“You-tube…?” Frank asked raising his eyebrow.

“An internet site for all sorts of videos and such” he nodded as he considered this information, “the world wide web has come a long way in the past few years. Tell me Frank… what were you doing yesterday?”

“My yesterday…” he rubbed his chin and a smile played across his lips, “Okay I’ve quit smoking and I’ve found the ultimate hangover cure! It was the seventeenth of March, 1991…”

“Out on the town then?” I asked.

“You’re not Irish, are you?” I shook my head in reply, “Would… Nah! It was Paddy’s day and I was out with a few friends raising a glass or two to an Englishman!”

“Saint Patrick was English?” I replied slightly shocked.

“Shhh… it’s a big secret. He was born somewhere in the Midlands I think and was taken as a slave as a youth to Ireland and then he did his thing with religion and snakes and then was partially responsible for destroying a few millennia’s worth of culture… who else would we pick?” The warm smile had returned to Frank’s face; I decided I very much liked this incarnation.

“So? Yesterday’s just a drunken haze?” I asked.

The smile faltered for a fraction of a second, “A couple of memories… I met a gorgeous Longford lassie ‘last night’, but alas I’d lost her phone number by the time I got home, figure it’s a bit late to be calling her now!”

I grinned at this very easy-going Frank, “What was her name?”

“Aideen” he answered.

My smile faltered and I thought about my reply for a few seconds, “I… I’m pretty sure you found her again.” It was definitely an uncommon name, I’d only ever knew of it once before and it was written beside the word ‘spouse’ in Frank’s notes lying beside the bed.

“I got lucky?” he glanced at the folder before shaking his head, “maybe I’ll have a read later, not for now… it’s much too nice a day for that just yet. Got to admit I did think it odd that there seems to be a very well worn paperback lying there that wasn’t published till next year… very odd!”

“It’s your favourite book… got to admit I quite like it as well.”

“How many times have I read it?” he asked picking it up and glancing at the ‘blurb’ written on the back cover, “I can see why I read it the first time, ‘It all started the day my Grandmother exploded!’… yep that’s a hook!”

I took the book from him and opened the front cover running my finger along a series of short lines marked along the bottom edge, “Looks like twenty-seven and counting or just once depending on how you look at it!”

“That’s mad!” he answered grinning broadly once again.

“You are in a psychiatric ward!”

“Touché!” he laughed.

“Pleased to meet you… again, Frank. I got stuff to do but there’ll be a brew on the go at the Nurse’s station by now and breakfast…” I looked at the time on my wristwatch, “…should be here within ten minutes.”


The business of the ward continued, even with only three patients the paperwork seemed relentless. Mr Williams left us just after eleven in floods of tears; these few rooms had been his home for over two years and he was one of those who liked his routine almost to the point of being classified as Aspergic. Sean left his mother after two hours and although I silently admired his wiry frame, as usual the look in his eyes when he exited the ward always seemed to be a mixture of sadness and fury. The angry part chilled me, I was sure it wasn’t directed at his mother and I pitied the person (if there was one) who might be on the receiving end of it.

Just after noon Frank walked up to me, his finger between the pages of ‘The Crow Road’, well over a third of the way through chewing his bottom lip. “What is it?” I asked.

“You know how you told me that I’d had myself sectioned?” he replied warily.

“Yes” I nodded.

“Does that mean I’m free to leave whenever I want?”

I smiled at the question he’d asked a number of times before, “Sort of…” The familiar look of concern crossed his features, “There’s procedure to follow, formality and forms to be completed and we need a doctor to sign you off.”

“I just want to go out for a walk…” he looked to the window, “it’s such a beautiful day.”

“Not as if we’re busy” offered John from beside me, “We can look after Mrs Murphy, if it’s just a walk in the sun.” Frank nodded enthusiastically.

“I don’t know…”

“Ahh come on Martine, he never loses his memory when he’s awake and you’re always just a phone call away!”

“We won’t tell anyone” said Louise from her seat at the computer.

Frank lowered his head and looked up into my eyes placing his palms together, “I promise I’ll be good!”

I looked at the three people about me and across the room at our only other patient.


Frank was right it was a far too glorious day to be stuck inside. I also felt quite the thrill at playing ‘hooky’ as the two of us ambled down the canal path at the rear of the hospital on the other side of the old wall. The sun was beating down, only an occasional fluffy cloud meandering across the sky from the light breeze which rippled the summer dress that I’d put back on around my knees. Frank walked beside me, silent for the first mile or so just taking in the sounds of the rustling leaves and chirping birdsong over the gentle melody of the slowly moving water of the canal.

The council, of whoever was responsible for the waterways, had recently been along this section so the tow-path was clear of weeds and stinging nettles but beneath the trees there was a pageant of colourful blossoms with a variety of scents. I was on a high as we strolled along, for a brief moment I almost took Frank’s hand in mine as if we were a couple; it had just felt like a moment a person should share with a lover rather than a patient.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was a good enough looking man albeit at least a decade and a half older than my normal preference but I could easily imagine that in his youth or for that matter in his head he could quite possibly have been my type. I chewed on my bottom lip as I dragged my gaze away. We walked across a small humped bridge that crossed a stream that fed into the canal, a narrow alley way spurred of the path.

I stopped and looked down the cobbled paving, Frank had taken a half dozen steps before he realised I had disappeared from his side, “What?” he asked with a pleasant smile.

“Hmm… skiving off school… are you sure you’re twenty-something, in your head that is?”

“Still finding it hard to believe it isn’t 1991… I celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday less than three weeks ago. Cross my heart and hope to die!” he said as his two fingers made the Sign of the Cross.

“Well, seeing as we’re breaking the rules, do you fancy a pint?”

“Hair of the dog?” he laughed loudly, a couple of ducks on the canal took flight at the sound, “Always!”

Frank headed for the Beer Garden of The Fox as I went to fetch drinks from the bar. I could just see him through the warped glass of the old rear windows of the Pub as Henry the landlord poured our drinks. He glanced up at me as he carefully poured the stout and then allowed it to settle. “Got yourself a beau, Martine?” he asked.

“What? Oh no… He’s… he’s just a friend.” I could see by Henry’s eyes that he knew there was something more but knowing how prejudiced even the most fair minded people could be I wasn’t about to tell him that Frank was actually one of my patients.

“Really? You seem kinda taken with him, even if he is almost old enough to be your father!”

“Oh no he’s…” No he isn’t twenty-five, Martine; he’s forty-six, girl! I thought to myself before continuing, “I guess he is. He is just a friend though… through work.”

“Age is irrelevant, Martine when it comes to matters of the heart” I pulled a face at Henry, raising my eyebrow and adding a crooked smile; “Come on, I’ve got to conform to the stereotype of ‘ye Olde bar room sage’ once in a while… it’s expected of me!”

I laughed as he finished pouring Frank’s pint, “I’ve got a Psychology degree and I should take pointers of you, Henry?”

He smirked at me as he handed the two drinks to me, “Always easier to see the whole picture from in front than from behind!”

I held Henry’s gaze for a moment as I chewed on my bottom lip, I was rarely at a loss for a reply with Henry but this time I suspected he had a point, I smiled and nodded before heading out into the sunshine.

Frank was sitting at a weather beaten table looking up at the sky, his left arm dangling beside him scratching the ear of the Pub cat that was raised on its haunches to reach his fingers.

“I see you’ve met Rover!”

“Rover?” asked Frank looking up at me; I saw his eyes flick briefly down my body, aware that the sun was behind me and the light was probably streaming through my dress, before returning to my face.

“Henry, the landlord has a strange sense of humour!” I said placing the two glasses on the table before sitting down opposite him. I was smiling broadly across the table at him, in my mind’s eye I imagined what he looked like naked and felt myself blushing as I pressed my thighs together and raised my glass of Pinot to my lips.

His own smile faltered as he perhaps caught a glimpse of my inner turmoil in my eyes, “I wonder… does he have a dog called Felix?”

I placed my glass back on the table, impressed that my hand had remained steady and I hadn’t spilt any, “No, the dog’s called Champion.”

“Champion… the Wonder Horse?”

“I’ve no idea but knowing Henry probably” I replied.

Frank dropped his eyes to the pint of stout in front of him and slowly lifted it to his lips downing about an inch with his first swallow. When he put the glass back down he once again gazed into my eyes. “Really quite odd…”

“A bad pint?” I asked.

“Oh no, it’s a fine pint, it’s just… I can remember having a feed of ‘em yesterday and yet it also feels like I haven’t touched the stuff in years.” His eyes dropped to his forearm as he twisted it back and forth examining the patchwork of scars circling the flesh, I could see his eyes dampen and my heart gave a jolt as he said “Musta been some crash… guess I was the lucky one to get out of it alive!”

It was odd to see this middle aged man talking with his deep voice and yet to hear within it the echoes of his younger years, the confusion he felt at a life he had lived and was yet to live mixed with the hopes and dreams that I also felt now in my mid-twenties. I’d seen many of Frank’s ages, getting snapshots of his life from his unique perspective, being able to almost chart the battle between hope and cynicism as the years progressed. I once again covered my response by raising my glass to my lips fearing that he would ask if anyone else died in that car crash.

“Ahh…another time I think, too beautiful a day to be dredging up the past… or the future, I guess?” I looked up at Frank and returned his smile “Can’t be having a sad girl beside me now!” He raised his glass once again, “Here’s to the undiscovered country!”

I raised my own and clinked glasses with him, silently I made a mental note to look up what the undiscovered country was.


We spent the afternoon at The Fox, I ordered up some food even though we were taking our time with our drinks I definitely didn’t want to return Frank to the ward in an inebriated state let alone my own level of sobriety. It was one of those days when alcohol seemed to have very little effect anyway except to loosen our tongues as we told tales of our own lives. Frank did manage to put Henry off his guard (the first time I had ever seen it) when he came out with our hot meals and he had asked what he did for a living. “A test pilot for padded cells” he had replied and when he didn’t change his answer in reply to Henry’s laugh it was obvious to see that the Landlord was suddenly on the back foot. The two of us watched the Pub’s owner walk away and discussed the prejudice of people towards mental illness from both our perspectives.

The sun was falling towards the horizon when we left and made our way back up the canal path towards the rear of the hospital. I had checked in with John every couple of hours as a matter of politeness and also to make sure that none of the ‘powers that be’ had seen fit to visit our forgotten ward. All was fine although my heart was a little heavy that this unexpected day was drawing to a close. Once again as we walked side by side I felt the urge to take his hand but this time I wanted to pull him around and look into his eyes to see a reflection of the keenness I now felt. I wanted him to see the want within me and to lower his head, twisting it to one side as our lips would meet for the first time on this warm summer’s eve with the water gently lapping against the banks and the wind whispering through the trees.

I’d been a Nurse for almost a decade and in all that time even though I had fancied a few of my patients I had never acted upon it let alone having, in a sense, only known this Frank for just a few hours and knowing full well that this incarnation might only remain for a few more. My throat was dry and my chest was tight as I thought about the next morning and if this ‘Frank’ would still be here or if ‘baby Frank’ or even ‘post-crash Frank’ would appear from his room.

I looked up above the high stone wall that ‘right-minded’ people had built over a century ago to keep the ‘loons’ from the view of genteel society except when they wanted to treat them as little more than a fairground Freak Show. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that we were much better as I spied the razor-wire and anti-climb fences that surrounded the new unit just inside the grounds. It was complete overkill for 99% of our ‘clients’ and even that single percentage point were seldom permanently placed with us and only ever left the likes of Broadmoor to be treated for surgical issues. Of course the fact that they were as mad as Hatters did have the side-effect of them causing injury to themselves or others. It rankled as I knew that within a week Frank would be re-located to the unit, albeit the least secure ward; I didn’t want him to be a man behind the wire, trapped with never a chance of going for an afternoon stroll. Never a chance of strolling along the towpath with me… hand in hand! I hadn’t realised that my hand was being held gently by his or for how long. I squeezed his fingers and got a tactile reply.

I glanced back at the new Secure Unit still just visible above the wall, “You know Frank I think you really ought to get yourself de-sectioned.”

“I was wondering about that. I’d say I was as sane as the next person so why did I get myself thrown in a Mental hospital?”

I winced at his choice of words, “It was as much about your estate, a way of preventing a cousin of yours having you declared insane and therefore no longer fit to look after yourself” I laughed quietly; “Very much a Catch-22 situation-”

“Oh I’ve just read Heller’s novel, brilliant and scary.”

I looked up at him figuring he was talking about the origins of the phrase as we paused beside the canal, “I haven’t, and maybe it should be de-rigueur reading for psychiatric nurses although I have read and seen Kesey’s ‘One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest’.” I felt my eyes suddenly water as I imagined Frank as McMurphy in the final scenes, I pulled my eyes from his as I continued “By getting yourself sectioned you effectively, at least to the courts, proved that you were sane enough to realise you were a loon!”

“Now that’s mad!” I nodded in agreement, “This… temporal shifting or whatever, how bad can it be?”

“Since you joined us I’ve seen you as young as a twelve month old perhaps and all the way up to your physical age… good news, I’ve never seen you as a ninety year old!”

“Hmmm… now that could have been handy, I could of told you all about the flying machines from the future… that line just isn’t as good in the modern era, now that we have flying machines!” he grinned.

“No… I guess it isn’t” I agreed as we turned and continued the last hundred yards towards the back gate of the hospital.



I sat on my bed, my knees hugged to my chest staring out of my window at the dark expanse of trees and fields beyond the glass. I was still in my light summer dress although it was almost two in the morning. The orange light from the streetlamps cast eerie shadows through the gaps between the houses and lit up the tops of the nearest trees with a sickly halo. I’d been standing at the window for over an hour, my cheek almost pressed to the glass so I could see the rear of the blue and white tower that marked the main building of the hospital two miles distant. I wondered if Frank was still awake and if he was thinking of me.

The window appeared to be moving up and down and I realised I was gently rocking back and forth. Gritting my teeth I made a conscious effort and ceased my movement. It was a far too disturbing an image to know that I had been mimicking the actions of so many patients I’d treated in my professional career. I looked down at the DVD’s I’d pulled from the shelf. Jack Nicholson was wearing a woolly hat as he grinned looking up to the heavens. The other movie was of a much lighter tone and really had no serious content compared to the Oscar-winner but at this moment every time I looked at it the tears began to flow again and yet I couldn’t help but look at it and hope for some romantic Hollywood ending. “Fifty fucking first dates” I muttered to myself looking at the smiling faces of Sandler and Barrymore.

An enormous bitterness welled up inside me as I found myself being jealous of Sandler’s fictional character; he had at least the benefit of being in love with the exact same person each and every day whereas I …

“What the fuck!” I swore at the open window and kicked the DVD’s from the bed. The tears were pouring down my cheeks as I rolled over onto my side, curling up tightly in the foetal position.


The bright dawn light woke me as it streamed through the window as I felt a dull pain in my foot. My eyes almost sealed shut with the residue from my tears refused to open for a minute before I was able to examine the scabbed mark on my little toe and the small patch of the white duvet that was now stained red. “Fuck!”


“What you doing here, Martine? It’s your day off isn’t it?” asked Steph.

“Err… yeah… it is.” I’d practised my reply as I’d driven over and still fluffed it. “Just got some paperwork… I forgot to sort yesterday…” I looked about the ward and could see that Frank’s door was still shut. Looking up at the Ward clock I knew that he wasn’t late rising…yet. “Just give me a moment… need to ask… err… Frank… something…” my voice had trailed off and I turned away walking across the ward.

Sean was sitting with his mother already, he looked up at me as I passed and for a moment I saw the tender love of a son for his mother and as he nodded it was as if he knew what I was doing here. What I was thinking. What I was feeling. “Thank you” I whispered as I reached frank’s door. It took me an age to take hold of the handle and a further age to twist it and open the door.

I stepped into the room and wondered if Frank could hear my heart beating from across the room. I raised my head and looked through watery eyes…..



Well, did you enjoy? I guess I was aiming for different bodily fluids this time! The mind is a funny thing, I’ve heard tell of it doing some extremely odd things especially as regarding memory, I don’t know if the injury and it’s resultant effect has ever happened but that’s why I used my Artistic License, it’s what it’s there for! I was intially aiming just for a ‘loving a crazy person’ story, don’t think i quite got that but then again you would have to be a complete loon to love a psycho!!! In the end I did see the similarity with ‘Fifty First Dates’ and it’s a nice enough film but …well mine’s a litte different and for once nobody died!

Well if you ignore Frank’s wife and child that is and the death of his memory, but heh! you can’t have everything!

I’ll let you decide what happened next!

Yours hoping you ‘enjoyed’ my scribbles…


~ by ftfagos on June 26, 2012.

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