Alzheimers in Atacama
Chapter 8 — The Dimming Star and the Two Greek Strangers
Allpa dies in Chaska's arms beneath the parting clouds. Above her, a star grows dimmer. Back in the care home, the lead carer returns — and mentions another young Greek working on the other wing.
← Karl Swainston / Alzheimers in Atacama
Chaska drew back to her love and remembered the words of Chirapa: "You must love and lie with him."
Allpa was barely alive. The winds of snow were still howling, the night was keen, and Chaska heard her lover stagger his breath. She knew he was dying. She held him tightly and whispered into his ear, "Allpa, we must love."
But Allpa was dead. She laid her head down on his chest.
Above, the clouds of snow had parted, and Chaska could see the mighty heavens and the eternal stars resting in them. She saw one specific star grow dimmer, and she knew her fate.
The fall was sweet for Chaska from the mountains.
"Is that old bugger farting off his stories again?" said the lead carer, walking back into the room. "You'll be out of a job if you spend your time listening to that rubbish. Now get out of here and go give that other Greek a hand on the other wing with another nutcase—a woman. What's the Greek lad's name?"
"I don't know his name, and I don't know him," Gaia replied quietly.
"Don't get funny with me, or you'll be out of a job. Now piss off and go and make yourself useful."
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About Karl Swainston
Karl Swainston is a writer and storyteller whose work is forged from a life lived across the North of England and far beyond. Growing up on a Leeds council estate in the 1960s, Karl's journey was anything but linear. By the age of thirty, he had already lived a dozen lives: from the rigors of grammar school to a degree in Latin, a stint as a fishmonger, a period of discovery living in Marseille, and a return to the hustle of London. Whether working as a postman, a builder, or competing as a county-level chess player, he was, above all, an avid reader—constantly documenting the world around him. This restless spirit continued into his professional life. Karl later taught in Bradford, where he ran a specialist unit for 244 of the most excluded students from across the region—young people whom even the local Pupil Referral Units could not accommodate. Working alongside his old friend Malcolm, Karl spent his days navigating the volatility of Bradford's most aggressive and dysfunctional teenagers. Throughout his life, Karl has been an avid runner and has always shared his home with a rotating cast of beloved dogs and cats—companions who have been constant witnesses to his work. As a writer, Karl's range is as expansive as his history. He works across a wide breadth of genres, including fiction and short stories, autobiography and memoir, biography, non-fiction, and metaphysical writing, as well as providing sharp commentary, opinion, analysis, and essays. Whether writing about his years managing the Harrogate Arms or offering insights from his current adopted home in South East India, where he lives in a simple village with his dog, Bambi, Karl's voice reflects the full, untidy, and deeply human breadth of life. He continues to draw on the rich, decades-long tapestry of his experiences to tell stories that matter, proving that no matter where you live, the human story remains the same.
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