Short story #2

I sit in the court room, with the smell of old wood that used to be comforting. Not anymore. My father used to take me to this part of the town, and I used to plead with him to buy me something. He never did. I didn’t understand back then that we didn’t have anything I thought it was just because I wasn’t old enough. Now, I sometimes sit alone and pray he comes back but I know he won’t. Now I have to claim his belongings for my own. I don’t want his possessions. I don’t want to know how he died. I don’t want to know about my mother. I don’t.

I can hear the cold, sharp muttering coming from the judges. This isn’t a friendly place, this is court. The silence cracks. “Everest Collins,” the judge calls out at random. The calm, clear voice shocks me, and I can’t help but give a clueless, “What?” The judge looks annoyed, but repeats my name anyway. “Which items do you wish to take as your belongings?” I want to sternly say none of them, but my curiosity gets the best of me. “His files. All of them.” To think about it, if I was any younger, I wouldn’t dream of choosing his documents. I would choose his money, or his antiques so I could sell them, but I have matured, and a 19 year- old is expected to act like an adult. So I do. “Nothing else,” I quickly add on; I don’t want any more questioning from the judges. The silence settles again, and inhaling dust makes me tingle with an energy; soon I’ll be out of this small, dry town.

I clamber out of my seat and walk slowly and carefully towards the head judge. He rummages through an ancient wooden chest, and summons out six yellowing folders, each with scrawly handwriting on the front, labelling what each section is about. I sneak a look at one of the cases and on the front, it is labelled “Everest”. My eyes widen, which I soon regret, after dust flies in my eye and it starts to water. I blink, and take the folders. “Thank you,” I whisper. I wouldn’t want to speak any louder, the silence is peaceful. My hands grasp around the edges of them, this is the only family I still know, and is here with me. All of the secrets that my father kept, all of the broken promises. They are mine, to pass through on my own. I give a pained smile, because I don’t know if I should be happy or not. The rusty door handle finally gives in, and I squint from the light outside, ready to find out everything.

 

 

 

One thought on “Short story #2

  1. Heidi, this is such an amazing piece of writing and you’ve done a great job of editing it down to under 500 words. Just make sure your punctuation is spot on before you send it in. Fantastic!!!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *