This piece was my first-ever attempt at writing microfiction as part of NYC Midnight’s “250 Word Microfiction Challenge” in 2019. As with all their competitions, participants receive a specific prompt, a word limit, and a time limit to produce a unique tale; in the “Microfiction Challenge” format, we were given a genre assignment, a specific action to include, and a word to feature somewhere in the story. This challenge had a 48-hour time limit and a 250-word limit. My prompt for this challenge was Horror (genre) / Eating Breakfast (action) / “Existed” (word).

When I first started participating in these competitions, I had to learn a lot about writing horror very quickly. (I received four separate Horror genre assignments across three years… Are they trying to tell me something?) The lesson I clung to was that the best way to start is to write about something that horrifies you personally. This time, I thought, “What could be more terrifying than the complete and utter betrayal of one’s mind?”

This piece became incredibly personal to me because of my family’s experiences with Alzheimer’s and dementia. The title comes from an unusual symptom of dementia known as Lewy bodies, which can cause patients to hallucinate vividly. You can learn more about this and other symptoms of dementia through the Alzheimer’s Association. I have linked additional resources about these conditions at the bottom of this page.


Lewy


CRASH. The walls shudder. Something is in the house.

I dash into the kitchen and find the intruder at the stove, throwing marbled fat into a pan; the hot flesh crackles and spits grease. White shards resembling bone fragments litter the countertop, oozing yellow pus. The smells make me gag.

The Thing turns on me and bares its teeth. “You’re up early.” It leaves the stove and stalks closer. I cower against the refrigerator, and the monster’s eyes alight with chilling malice.

“I guess it’s going to be a bad day,” the Thing growls, grabbing my wrist. I scratch, trying to get free from its clammy grip. It drags me out of the kitchen; I dig in my heels and whimper. What’s it going to do to me?!

“Don’t fight, mmm. You come sit here.”

The Thing pushes me, and I collapse into a chair. My eyes find the phone in the corner. The police could help. I might be able to make it. But the Thing is watching — everywhere, its eyes stare at me from the picture frames. It lumbers out of the kitchen with two steaming plates. “Gonna eat today, Mmm,” it slavers. Suddenly, the phone rings. I scream and lunge for it, but the Thing blocks me. I manage to escape while it’s distracted.

“Hi, Louie… No, it’s not good. Mom’s really disoriented… She wouldn’t eat… She just looked right through me. It’s like she completely forgot I even existed…”


Additional resources:

Post Script: The tragic passing of spouses Gene Hackman (actor) and Betsy Arakawa (pianist) in February 2025 put a spotlight on caregivers’ uniquely challenging risks and responsibilities. While the details of the investigation have been horribly sensationalized, the story brought attention to this lonely and difficult role. The mental and physical health of caregivers is critical. If you or someone you know is currently working as a caregiver for a loved one, these resources might be useful in your situation:

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