This is a bit of a different type of story in an apocalyptic vein. Comments and reviews are welcome.
The BoxFMJ
Chapter 1
The call informing me of the death of my maternal grandfather was not unexpected. Although he was reclusive, the family had known that he was in poor health for some time. What was unexpected was the certified and registered letter that came requesting my presence at a lawyer’s office for the reading of the will and subsequent transfer of assets.
My single visit to the home of my grandfather with my mother had been when I was perhaps four or five years of age. I vaguely remember tall ceilings and a dark curved wooden staircase and railing that creaked loudly with every step. Heavy drapes on the tall windows and thick carpets made the interior of the house cool and dark. I can just recall quietly exploring shadowy hallways that led to huge dark wooden doors that had clear crystalline door knobs that I could not turn. Occasionally, in my youthful explorations, I would become frightened and flee to my mother’s side for reassurance.
Although I was usually described as introverted and shy as a child, my mother steadfastly maintained that I was precocious. She often related an incident from that visit in the following years that had happened during a lapse in a conversation between my grandfather and her. I had appeared at her side and crawled up on her lap to get her attention when I unexpectedly settled myself and silently regarded my grandfather. She said her father had silently returned my gaze and we sat there for several minutes in the cool shadows of the old house. I then, without comment or request, got down off of her lap to make my way towards some other object of my interest. She would then say that my grandfather had uttered one word.
“Extraordinary”, he had said.
Bookmarks