Chapter One: Introduction
My father has recently passed away after his long battle with Alzheimer’s. I still remember how he described it, a creature of unnatural proportions that didn’t seem logical for the world we inhabit. He always explained it as if it was standing near him, out of sight, staring at him despite not having eyes. The creature which he deemed “Alzheimer’s” was a lanky thing, it’s bones seemingly longer than any human that has come before, but my father would always describe it’s size differently. Some days the creature was no bigger than him, other days it would tower over him. He detailed it’s limbs as ever changing, times when one arm or one leg would be hideously shorter or longer or all of it’s limbs would be shorter or longer than it’s body. The one thing that never changed however was the creature’s head, the one constant of this changing beast. He always had a hard time describing it cause he never liked looking at it since it made him feel senile and overall sick, but the little he has told me is that half of the head is gone, from the nose up is nothing but an empty skull; no brain whatsoever within.
I never liked his descriptions about it, it never sat right in my stomach.
Many doctors who he would talk to about it would just explain to him that the creature wasn’t real and is simply his own mind playing tricks on him, but he always grew angry at this dismissal of what he saw. I can’t exactly blame him either, when something so grotesque and horrifying is constantly in your peripheral, being told it’s nothing but a trick of the mind can only make you feel insane. What made me feel insane was the fact that he named the creature well before his official diagnosis, he knew what it was before the medical team could, which had made me wonder if the creature has the ability to communicate.
I can’t believe I just unknowingly admitted it was real just then…still, it is hard not to believe it isn’t when your father talked about it often despite hating it.
I guess I should explain why you are reading this though, instead of opening it with such a vague and off putting vibe. These pages that follow will be my father’s written accounts about various creatures he’s seen throughout his lifetime such as Depression, Anxiety, Alzheimer’s, and Hund, as he has named them. He has told me about these creatures that always correspond with some mental or physical disease he had but most people in the family just brushed it off as lunacy or him explaining away his diseases by personifying them. I knew that what he said was real, at least to him, so I always listened - he is my father after all. I however never knew he wrote extensively about them in great detail, which I only discovered due to his death and looking through his belongings. I will be helping every now and then to either give some details or background information about any of the pieces, as well as give my opinions on them. I can’t lie either, I do find his stories fascinating, if not a little terrifying, which is why I felt the need to publish them to whomever would read it.
I should also probably tell you my name and the basic knowledge needed for my father, just so we can be acquainted for this journey. My name is Jared Veicht, pronounced “fight.” My father’s name was Hans Veicht, a German immigrant after the Second World War, explaining the very German name. He was a baby during the war, moving to America with his family around 1940. He died late 2021, making him eighty-one. He had me with my mom during his thirties, making me fifty-one. My dad has told me that Depression and Anxiety has been there most, if not all of this life, so those creatures are the most detailed and have a unique relationship with him. He never showed animosity towards them, but more as something he couldn’t hate because hating them wouldn’t change anything.
I seem to have been a carried away with spoiling some details, but just see it as a preview for what is to come.
I suppose I should have a warning before I continue with my writing. If you’re sensitive to certain topics held within these situations, proceed with caution. My father was a bleak and straightforward man, he hides nothing within these pages. I also want to clarify to help separate my voice from my father’s, whenever I’m inserting myself into the page, I will do so with the first sentence being italicized.
This is a great example of what I mean, let’s say the paragraph before was my father’s work, now that the words have become italicized, you now know it’s me. I however won’t have an exit, rather just continue from where I interrupted.
Understood? Okay.
