Dementia

I used to know this place. I lived here once. It was brighter then, happier, less depressing. At least, I thought so.

They lived here, too, they of the shining faces and long fingers. I knew they were there, in the shadows, the vents, the beams of light. I was the only one who could see them, only me. I followed their happy lives, watching them as they went about their play. No one believed me that they were there. But I knew better. At least, I thought so.

One would speak to me, now and then. We were companions, he and I. Soul mates, some said. At least, I thought so.

I was wrong. I told someone of the boy with shining face and long fingers who lived in the shadows. I was sent away, called insane. "There are no people in the shadows," I was told. At least, they thought so.

He came for me, in the chill place I was sent. I saw him, hiding in the shadows, occasionally showing his shining face or reaching to touch my shoulder with a long finger. They could lock me away, but I still saw him. At least, I thought so.

Years passed, long years with strange men telling me over and over, "There are no people in the shadows." I argued with them, tried to show them the boy, who would stand behind the strange men, making fun of their long faces with his shining one, tousling their grey hair with his long fingers. He made me laugh when the strange men asked their strange questions. They wrote this on their pads, then left. At least, I thought so.

They never left. They would watch as I talked with the boy with the shining face and long fingers. They would scribble on their pads, then tell me, "There is no boy there." At least, they thought so.

I am finally free of that chill place, back at my childhood home. But it is no longer home. It is empty. The ones with shining faces and long fingers are gone, faded away. Even the boy, my soul mate, is gone. That is why I am free. When he left, I no longer saw him, and the strange men with their long faces, and grey hair, and pads with writing called me "cured." At least, they thought so.

Because I lied. I do not see the boy anymore, but he is still there, laughing in the shadows. He is a man, a man with a shining face and long fingers. I am going with him, where I will not be called insane. At least, I think so.