Here is a fable I wrote:

A monstrous dragon struck down my knight and he died a slow agonizing death. I will never be sure who suffered more. The dragon that takes ones mind and robs one of their very souls is a very powerful dragon. It is insidious, soundless, and invisible but you know the dragon is there. Preying on its victim, breathing its hot breath, expending its claws, sharpening its teeth, it will strike again and again and no one sees it coming, there is no defense. My knight, my love, my heart were devoured by the dragon called, Alzheimers. These last years are incredibly hard for me. If it had not been for my friends, I think I would have gone mad. There was no knight to slay this dragon, all of us just watched in horror. Like a cat toying with a mouse, this giant lizard would grab my Arthur, pierce his flesh until he screamed and then let him go. I would try to sneak in and tend to his wound but the monster would swipe him back, plunging a fang into his brain. There was never any blood so the wounds were not visible. Shaman would come and try to get close, they could tell where the wounds were but they had no magic for healing. Dragon fangs have poison and once it seeps in there is no antidote. Sometimes the dragon would pick him in its mouth and toss him into the river. This is where I could bring Arthur back, wading in the water and taking him to shore I would try to comfort him because there was no healing, just comforting. At these times, the monster would sleep and I even allowed myself to believe that he would not come back, that Arthur would recover and then I would hear a roar and know he was returning for his prey. Deftly he would pluck him from my arms and the torment would begin again for Arthur. Oftentimes Arthur would ask for release, let the dragon take me, I dont want this half living anymore. But no, the beast enjoyed the game too much, every ounce of life was drawn from him carefully, leaving enough for awareness. Arthurs family did not join me in my crusade against the dragon. They refused to acknowledge the beasts existence and so they stayed in their village, drinking in their tavern, filling their cups with lies and drinking it down. My once strong and powerful knight stopped fighting, he would lay there as the dragon toyed with him, punctured his skin, sucked at his brain, breathed in his oxygen. Some days, I admit, I turned away; it was too painful to be so close and yet so helpless. For a moment, I would feel relief because the dragon was sucking my life as well. When I went away I could breath. The cloud in my head cleared and the vice around my brain was gone. Like a shower, the sweat and grime of caring for him would be washed away down the drain. After a cleansing, I went back in the forest to the dragons cave and tried to reach my knight. There he would be, curled in a ball of agony and I would touch him gently, slowly his eyes would open and focus, he knew me. Relief covered his body like a blanket and he would uncurl and relax. For a while. Until the next time. This continues until the end when like all parasites, the monster will take just a little too much and my knight will be gone. The beast, Alzheimers moves on to fresh prey. I believe that Arthur will be back in Camelot wearing boots made of dragon hide. He will be surrounded with people, sharing food and drink, inviting everyone to gather round and telling stories of his adventures. Arthur loved to tell stories. He will happy there, I can see him laughing.