How it works, or where it came from beyond that, I have no idea. I found the stone on my latest expedition to South America and I believe it to be of Incan origin. I have entrusted it to you, as my favourite grandson and friend, to be its keeper and guardian now that I am gone. Treat it with care, it does not look much, but has immense power. The stone you find in this box is my legacy to you. Do not mourn my leaving although we shall no longer be able to spend time together, be happy knowing that where I am now is just a new start and a different perspective than before and that I shall just look at it as my next great adventure. If you are reading this, it means I have passed on. The note was from my grandfather and what it said was this: She did so, with much eyebrow-raising in the process. The stone was slightly metallic, rather like haematite, but with a reddish hue to its surface, rounded, flattish and about an inch across. Inside was a rather crumpled piece of paper and a rather unusual, if plain-looking, stone. "It's my inheritance." I opened up the box. I think I was probably playing up the cloak-and-dagger stuff too much, but it was quite mysterious, after all. It was fairly unimpressive, about one inch by four and an inch deep, made of plain dark wood with a few obscure markings carved into it. "This." I interrupted, holding up the box. Then what makes you think." she started, obviously somewhat bewildered. "Oh, there was a body, I'm just not sure it was him." I realised I was probably giving her images of mutilated corpses or worse, but I was genuinely nervous about what I was about to show her. "I mean, how can they diagnose a heart attack with no body?" "I presume we're not talking adolescent denial here," she asked, with a raised eyebrow. "That's because I'm not convinced he's actually dead." I took a deep breath and took the plunge. What happened? He wasn't all that old, was he? I thought he was off on one of his expeditions just a few months ago." "My grandfather died." I stated matter-of-factly. "Anything of interest to report while I was away?" she asked. I might have to give the old spring break tradition a miss next year and just hang out with you." There's only so many snowy mountain peaks you can gaze at in wonder in a lifetime. She shrugged, "You know, same-old, same-old. "Hey, Jon-boy! How's it going? Good break?" When she finally reached me, she leapt up onto the wall with somewhat more ease than I'd managed earlier. There are some friendships you just don't want to complicate. I'd always thought she was cute, but we'd never been more than friends. The overall effect, I thought, was pretty cute. Her short red hair was in its normal unruly state and she displayed her quirky grin as she spotted me slouched on the wall. She was wearing her usual get-up of scruffy old slacks and her favourite worn old green jumper. In fact, I'd been waiting to talk to her for over a week, but she always spent spring break with her parents in their caravan in the mountains and we had no classes together this year, so this was the first chance we'd had to get together for a while.įinally, I spotted her strolling towards me across the yard. I was waiting for Karyn, my best friend of longer than I'd care to mention. Plus it was a good school everyone was pretty honest in general and we'd only had a very few incidents if theft in all the time I'd been there. It was irrational anxiety and I knew it: the lockers were all well-protected with combination locks, and it was vastly unlikely that anyone would ever keep anything in there which was particularly valuable. That turned out to be an even worse plan - I was on the edge of my seat throughout every lesson, worrying that someone would break into my locker and take the box. I hadn't dared carry the box around with me all day in case I misplaced it or someone thought they might borrow it, and that meant leaving it in my locker. It was the first day of school after spring break and had been one of the most stressful I'd ever endured. I sat on the wall after class, nervously fingering the box and swinging my legs.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |