Classical Death

It was it's normal gloomy autumn afternoon in Vermont. Sharry Edleson was just returning home from the local market getting the normal single life diet necessities; Mason jar of lemonade, a few bananas, greek yogurt, and practically a crate of Lean Cuisines. She knew she didn't eat the healthiest but an occasional trip to the local gym won't hurt. Most people from Bloomfield know her as the perky redhead novelist. Being from a small town, not much was expected from her. No big New York's best seller came out of Bloomfield. She was the first and was proud of that.

She stuck the key inside the lock of the old New England home and heard a loud rumbling behind her. The sound of a classic 1952 Ford truck was distinctive to her ears. Every time she heard that truck she knew it could be one person. Grandpa.

As the baby blue truck pulled into the gravel driveway she dropped her bags onto the porch and left her keys hanging in the lock. An older man in his eighties wearing long blue jeans, an orange shirt and and red suspenders, stepped out of the truck holding onto a cane with "Vietnam Veteran" carved into the handle.

"Hey Share. Nice to see your still around here." He smiled with his rosy cheeks his long white beard blew in the wind.

Sharry rolled her eyes hating that pet name he gave her but a smile grew as she hugged him. "Hi Grandpa. Its great to see you again. It's been a few weeks hasn't it? What brings you back down to Bloomfield?" she let go of him and noticed he looked a bit down.

"Well Share..I have some bad news. Your publisher still has my address in their records and sent this to the house." He took a folded letter out of his pocket slowly and handed it to her. He placed it in her hand and folds his on top of her's.

Her heart skips a beat and she looks at him dumbstruck.

"It's about my book isn't it?" She grips the paper in her hand as she tries meets his awkward gaze. Not having the heart to break it to her, he says nothing.

She opens the letter with her pocketknife and stares down at the horrible words hand written by R&C Publishing.

"Dear Mrs.Edleson,

We regret to inform you that your newest novel "Bloodbath tower" will not be published by R&C publishing due to it's lack of creativity, originality, flow, and quite frankly heart. You have lost your love for writing haven't you Mrs.Edleson? We will not be publishing this novel and we would prefer you no longer submit your work to us. Thank you for your time and please disregard any further contact from our associates.

Sincerely,

Albert H. Chaloon.

R&C Publishing Office

Newyork City, Newyork"

She takes the letter in hand and angrily rips it up yelling things she will pray for forgiveness later. She drops to her knees sobbing her grandfather hugging her tightly as the little pieces of the letter are picked up and taken away by the wind.

"I'm so sorry Share...I didn't know if my old heart could take telling my only granddaughter she got rejected. I prayed to the lord I'd have the strength to even give it to you." He sighs and helps her up holding her in his arms. She sobs and wipes her eyes with her Cashmere sweater sleeve.

"T-Those..bastards!" she screams. "Don't they know how long that took me to write? I can't believe Al would say something like this, we have known each other since high school!" she stood up and walked to the front door furiously, her grandfather following behind.

She stormed inside and threw her keys onto the shelf by the door as she does every day. She is not one to break routine no matter the occasion. Her grandfather sighed.