{"id":747,"date":"2021-03-05T10:08:41","date_gmt":"2021-03-05T10:08:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=747"},"modified":"2021-03-05T10:08:44","modified_gmt":"2021-03-05T10:08:44","slug":"alans-anchor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/alans-anchor\/747\/","title":{"rendered":"Alan\u2019s Anchor"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"dementia\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Alan scans the room, bleary-eyed. Where is he?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why is he in a single bed without his beloved wife, Eileen? As his vision clears, he sees a young woman standing over him, two pills glistening in the palm of her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMorning, Mr Clarke,\u201d she says. \u2018Your pills.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He must have been kidnapped, his spy network infiltrated. Yes, that must be it. He has to get out of here and fast before he\u2019s tortured for his secrets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pretends to swallow the pills. When the woman leaves, he stuffs them into his pyjama pocket. A rustling sound alerts him to a piece of paper nestling there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\u201cHead to the beach,\u201d it says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On his way to the door, he glimpses his reflection and gasps. He looks at least eighty-five. They really are trying to disorient him; these drugs must be strong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He throws on a pair of shoes and opens the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dimly lit hallway is adorned with a clashing patterned carpet and floral wallpaper. To the right, the front door stands proud, its handle set high like a soldier\u2019s salute. He runs and flings it open, squinting into the sunlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pathways criss-cross in different directions over a manicured lawn. Which way?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he spots it. An arrow chalked onto the ground. Then another, and another, guiding him all the way to the beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Waves gently lap the shore and Alan\u2019s breathing slows to the same steady pace. He has forgotten why he\u2019s here, but this view seems reason enough. The sea beckons and he trudges towards it, sand working its way into his shoes and tickling his toes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something sparkly catches his eye. A glass bottle spinning in the white-water, nudging the sand insistently. There\u2019s something inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDearest Alan,\u201d the note reads. \u201cFind the Anchor Woman. You\u2019ll know it\u2019s her because she has my eyes. You can trust her. She\u2019ll help with your mission. Soon, my love, we\u2019ll be together again. Love, Eileen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blinking through tears, he spots her across the beach. Hair the colour of sand, waving to him. As he draws nearer, the blue anchor emblazoned across her picnic blanket shifts into focus. Then he sees those sapphire eyes and his heart swells. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stands to kiss him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSarah! I\u2019m lost,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She gestures for him to sit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not lost. You\u2019re on an assignment. Here, take these.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This time he swallows the pills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the brief?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo back to the care home. Find out all you can about everyone there. Stay up late chatting to Jack and Maureen. Then get a good night\u2019s sleep. Come on, I\u2019ll walk you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After Sarah leaves him, a renewed sense of purpose and calm settles over him. It remains long after his memory of today\u2019s encounter has faded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sarah texts the nurse, \u201cDon\u2019t forget to check the note is in his pocket ready for tomorrow. I\u2019ll replace the bottle on the shore in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alan scans the room, bleary-eyed. Where is he?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Alan scans the room, bleary-eyed. Where is he? Why is he in a single bed without his beloved wife, Eileen? As his vision clears, he sees a young woman standing over him, two pills glistening in the palm of her hand. \u201cMorning, Mr Clarke,\u201d she says. \u2018Your pills.\u201d He must have been kidnapped, his spy […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"A brilliant flash fiction on the topic of \"Lost\" from Swansea Writers:\n\"Alan\u2019s Anchor\"\n\n#flashfiction #fiction #freefiction","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[379,423],"tags":[425,424,426],"class_list":["post-747","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-379","category-march-2021-lost","tag-care-home","tag-dementia","tag-spy"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-c3","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/747","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=747"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/747\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":752,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/747\/revisions\/752"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=747"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=747"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=747"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}