Aging

A Collection of Short Stories

by

TOP WRITERS BLOCK

Written on the theme of:

AGING

Copyright ©August 2019 by each individual author as noted

Published on Smashwords

Cover Photo from Adobe Photo Stock

ISBN: 9780463902721

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE OLD MAN by Andre’ Mwansa

AS MY GARDEN GROWS by Elizabeth Rowan Keith

HARLAN by Alan Naylor

THE FINAL LIFELINE by Suzy Stewart Dubot

A SENIOR MOMENT by Barnaby Wilde

A QUIET LOVE by David H. Keith

WE ALL KNOW WHAT THE ALTERNATIVE IS… by Suzy Stewart Dubot

LIFE ON THE EDGE by Barnaby Wilde

ELLEGARD AND SVEN by Alan Naylor

ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET? by Barnaby Wilde

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE ELDERLY – PART 2 by Melissa A. Szydlek

THE OLD MAN

by

Andre’ Mwansa

Copyright ©August 2019 Andre’ Mwansa

An avid reader, Andre' Mwansa lives in Lusaka, Zambia. He loves cats and writes short stories from time to time. Andre' writes for fun. You can find him online at: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/andre4

"Maybe, sometimes, it's easier to be mad at the people you trust because you know they'll always love you, no matter what."

- Ann Brashares

Family is the only social unit obliged to love you; from the rest of the world, you have to earn it.

I sit in complete silence, watching as his chest slowly rises and falls. His belly is getting bigger and the buttons on his pajamas are straining slightly. I should change him soon. Then again, his breaths seem much slower than before, almost as if they might stop at any moment. Almost.

I watch as his chest slowly rises.

And then it falls.

And then nothing.

I hold my breath, just in case -

I should -

Suddenly he mutters something under his breath, but it's just a sleep murmur. He shifts slightly and lets out a couple of snorts.

He's still alive. Of course he is.

Thank God. I mean, that's what I want. I want him to be okay. Of course I do.

So, I wait, in case he wakes.

The only sound now is the rustle of his pajamas as he continues to breathe. Again, my thoughts inevitably turn to the possibility that the sound could stop at any moment. He could just slip away into eternal peace, but he clings to life as if he's scared of what might come next. Naturally, he’s never admitted to any fear. The mere suggestion would horrify him, and he'd probably have another of his loud, violent outbursts. But deep down, beneath all his brashness, I think he's terrified. That's why he's been so much angrier lately. Even worse than before.

But I have to look past the bad moments and concentrate on what's still most important. He's a patient and he’s my father and I’m his nurse.

This is my duty.

Liseli, he mumbles suddenly, and his eyes flicker open. Still bloodshot, still yellow at the edges.

I'm here, I reply.

My bag, he whispers, wincing as he tries to sit up. It's full.

I get to my feet. I can….

You've gotta empty it, he continues, already pulling the duvet aside to reveal the colostomy bag attached to his swollen red belly. It stinks.

I swallow hard. Please….

You've gotta empty it! he hisses. What's wrong with you, are you suddenly deaf and dumb? Do you want me to sit here like this, with my own shit leaking out all over the place? It's full, you stupid....

His voice trails off, but after a moment he mutters a few curses under his breath.

You're no better than the idiots at the hospital, is the only part of the little tirade