Omitted Scene Spotlighting Alzheimer’s

41ikrQg7JUL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpgThe following is a scene I had left out from Tortured and Tormented – creating a school shooter.” It was omitted because I ended up taking out the grandmother role in the final text.

Next I had intended to use it in, Is Suicide Painless.”  It would have taken place when the narrator was telling Sunny about his past. However, I  decided to stick with only hinting at another traumatic incident, so I again ended up on the cutting room floor.

Is Suicide Painless1_edited.jpg

I think it is still pretty powerful and may use it in a future work..

I hope you find it compelling. 


                I was probably four years old when we moved into the house across the street from my grandmother.  She was the matriarch of our family, she was known to all as Mamma. 

                It was great being so close to my Italian grandmother.  Many days I would stop by her house after school.  She would always have a treat.  Often we would watch television together or just chat.  It was my brief stop before going home to do homework. 

                 I vividly remember every Christmas I would go to her house and set up the aluminum table top tree, then put up a simple string of Christmas lights around the front door.  It wasn’t the Christmas season until I hung the small ornaments on her little tree. 

                I admit to being a spoiled, Italian mamma’s boy.  Being so close to Mamma I was doubly spoiled.  I spent much time with Mamma.  She didn’t drive, so we took her everywhere she needed to go.  On the occasions when my parents would say no to buying me something, a quick trip across the street would get me my way.  Mamma was the only grandparent I knew, her husband, Pappa, passed away before my mother was married and my father’s parents lived in Sicily.  She was part of my everyday life. 

                She was also the glue that held my entire family tightly together.  Frequently my aunts, uncles and cousins would all gather at her home to share in huge Italian feasts.  My immediate family was not limited to my parents and sisters, my extended family was immediate.  My aunts and uncles were extra parents.  My mother was the youngest of nine and my cousins were big brothers and sisters. 

                I was secure.
                I was loved.
                I was well-adjusted.           

                I was still in elementary school, so I don’t recall exactly how old I was when my grandmother first took ill.  Today the diagnosis would be Alzheimer’s disease; however, back in the mid 70’s it was just called senility.  Whichever label you chose to give it, Mamma started to fade away.  Some days, on my stops by her home, she would not open the door, she didn’t recognize me. 

                My young heart would sink. 
                My excitement would dissipate.
                My time with Mamma wouldn’t be on that day.

                Eventually, Mamma’s children deemed that my family would move across the street and live with Mamma.  All my Aunts and Uncles had excuses as to why they could not “disrupt” their homes, yet they had no problem stealing my childhood.  My closest cousin in age was four years older than I and most were in college, yet my parents with two young children, were mandated to move in and watch over Mamma.  Watching over soon became taking care of.  Mamma rapidly deteriorated.  Some days her mind devolved into a younger persona.  She would often claim to be pregnant. 

                Much of those years have faded with time, however, certain incidents stand out, forever burned in my memory. 

                I came home from school to find my mother in the kitchen.  She told me Mama was up watching television, she was having a good day. 

                I was so happy it was a good day, we would get to have a visit like before she took ill.  I rushed into Mamma’s room.  I gave her a kiss.

                 It wasn’t a good day.

                Mamma took hold of my wrists in a vice grip.  I told her she was hurting me, but she wouldn’t let go.  She whispered in my ear.  “That woman in the kitchen, she is going to take you in the cellar.  She is going to chain you down there.  Then, she is going to kill you.”  I started to cry.  Mamma shushed me.  She repeated her warning.  Finally, my mother heard me crying.  She came into the room and tried to reason with Mamma.  There was no reasoning.  After several tries, she couldn’t loosen her hold.  She called my father at work.  For some reason, he was the only one who could calm her when she was like this.

         My father, as he had done many times, left his job and came home.  He soon calmed her down and she released her grasp.  My hands were numb, the circulation had been cut off.  I was trembling. Although I knew Mamma was sick, I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth.  That night, when everyone was asleep, I went down to the cellar — I had to be sure.  To this day, all these years later, once a week I dream about this day.  I dream of the day Mamma told me my mother was going to kill me. 

        Sunny kissed my cheek.
        A tear ran down her face.
        Silently, we sobbed.

I write of the damaged and broken, because that is the norm. For each person who overcomes their demons, there are hundreds, if not thousands, who do not.

It is their stories I tell. 

“Who am I?”20190630_1305207795170130459536580.jpg

I am an independent, self-published teller of tales,
an author, as of yet, scarcely any renown.
However, as a storyteller, I know who I am,
and with that persona, I am both confident and comfortable. I invite you to visit my website,

and/or Amazon Author Pages

Joe Leonardi              Scono Sciuto

if you are so inclined please purchase a copy and leave a review.

Thank you,


Buy a Coffee for Short Story Scribe




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

Followers of The Way~Walking In Truth

The truth, The struggles and the rewards of being a follower of Christ! The Way!

Simply Pao.

A Journal of Trauma, Healing, and Motherhood

Life...Take 2

I hope that someone sees this page and decides not to give up...

Bewitched by Books

Book reviews

Cold Coffee Stand

Make it new, wrong, broken and brilliant

Unrealized Realities

Official Website of science fiction writer Michael T. Kuester

Art by Rob Goldstein

There is no common truth, but there are facts.

Clever and WTF

Fantasy and Other Short Stories

The Debbie Chavez Show

Biblical guidance for women

Through My Eyes

Thoughts, Expression through creativity

The 50 year old poet

You're never too old to start again

Tears, Tiaras, and Tantrums

Finding beauty in the midst of life's messy moments, trials, and pain. Isaiah 61:3

Lahdidah Living

Life as it comes.

Key West Real Estate For Sale

...because you simply must buy a home in Key West!


The Legend of NEWS and Magazines

The Summoner Sisters

Three rules. Two sisters. One big problem.


you'll find your point when


This blog is about my personal journey of trying to be an author and searching professional help of how to get there. It will be funny and serious as well as worthwhile

Quiet Evidence

ordinary reflections about an extraordinary god

Educationally Speaking

"We are the bridge that connects the child to the curriculum."

Lucie Guerre

A Poetic Spilling of Thoughts and Ideas

A quiet but strong voice Emo the Emotional Elf

Imperfectly perfect point of view a mothers prospective

The OCD Nerd News

Written by nerds for nerds!

read on

open your mind to a growth mindset and new perspectives

The Healing Ground

I was there too, in the dark, — with you.

The Broken Inside of Me

Secrets, Betrayal, Romance & Love, combined are the pieces of me

Vivi La Vita

Some Photography, and Short Stories on Humanity, Love, Honor, Addiction, etc.


Every now and then my head is racing with thoughts so I put pen to paper

Carrie In Writing

Life, Faith, and Fiction: Everything is better in writing.

Shut My Mouth

Telling My Secrets To the World - an Online Diary

Go Dog Go Café

Where writers gather

Writer In A Hat

Short Stories, Writing Tips & Essays

Fun Box

Dig in the box for music, fun, and inspiration!

%d bloggers like this: