(no subject)
"Here's your newspaper, John."
Strange, that the newspaper would be delivered by hand.
It was a sunny late-summer morning. A breakfast of cereal (oats) and fruit (fresh, organic watermelon and raspberries) was on the table. My grandfather retires to his secure room with the newspaper.
This is a notable event. A test? My mind paces furiously.
There's a knock at the door. "I'm home, dear." It's my grandfather.
Not my grandfather, this man has a shorter skeleton, he moves with a different signature.
"Grandmother..."
"A friend of John's, a war-buddy," her voice is cool, like a glass of water. My confidence in her helps to ease the nervous tension that is splitting between my shoulders. "Now go finish your breakfast, I'll be in shortly."
I sit, and gulp down the fruit while I search for bearings. Bearings? I start reciting the latin i had studied the night before. Did He know this was coming? The greatest man i knew had gone, disappeared. Deceased? Late? Needed? Captive? None of these things were good.
I bolt from the table. Never having moved so silently, I search out the secure room. I have seen the man move, the way his hands work, unconciously my fingers flit over a brass hook, it's a catch. A moment more and i am staring at a small desk bathed in an eery glow from a flat incandescent lamp directly overhead. The sunlight plays eery shadows in the corners.
I step forward, terrified and compelled, to try and work out what actually is happening.
The newspaper lays open to page 2. At the foot of a report on the weather, written in the familiar engineer's-script, was written: "ABANDON THE PRESI"
I return to breakfast, business as usual, today.
Strange, that the newspaper would be delivered by hand.
It was a sunny late-summer morning. A breakfast of cereal (oats) and fruit (fresh, organic watermelon and raspberries) was on the table. My grandfather retires to his secure room with the newspaper.
This is a notable event. A test? My mind paces furiously.
There's a knock at the door. "I'm home, dear." It's my grandfather.
Not my grandfather, this man has a shorter skeleton, he moves with a different signature.
"Grandmother..."
"A friend of John's, a war-buddy," her voice is cool, like a glass of water. My confidence in her helps to ease the nervous tension that is splitting between my shoulders. "Now go finish your breakfast, I'll be in shortly."
I sit, and gulp down the fruit while I search for bearings. Bearings? I start reciting the latin i had studied the night before. Did He know this was coming? The greatest man i knew had gone, disappeared. Deceased? Late? Needed? Captive? None of these things were good.
I bolt from the table. Never having moved so silently, I search out the secure room. I have seen the man move, the way his hands work, unconciously my fingers flit over a brass hook, it's a catch. A moment more and i am staring at a small desk bathed in an eery glow from a flat incandescent lamp directly overhead. The sunlight plays eery shadows in the corners.
I step forward, terrified and compelled, to try and work out what actually is happening.
The newspaper lays open to page 2. At the foot of a report on the weather, written in the familiar engineer's-script, was written: "ABANDON THE PRESI"
I return to breakfast, business as usual, today.