Short Stories/ Story teasers

The Tapestry

I thought of the choppy waves battering the shore far below and wondered just for a minute what exactly would happen if i had just tried to reach out and touch them, i thought of the way the waves looked, endlessly lapping up against the jagged rocks below ,the ocean stretching well into the horizon of infinity. It seemed so tangible like someone weaved the movement right into it . . . . i looked back through the hallway where it waits yearning for me to touch it if only i could just . ..

" Mona , will you take a picture of us next to the honours and send it to your Grandparents , please?" i sighed and turned back around and pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of my parents pointing cheekily the the scottish honors. We came to Dunnottar castle because my family is descendents of the royal family that once ruled this area.

This summer was supposed to be mine, and here i am being dragged all over the world following the family lineage. My parents were both major history buffs my dad was a world history professor at the college located back in our town and my mom works at the local library and deals with sorting out documents that come in dealing with ancestry which obviously is how we ended up here mom traced our heritage back to this place and dad was all for it since a battle that seems almost too fantastic to have really happened was located here with our royal pain in the butts having a front row view. Other than the admittedly cool scottish crowned jewels and the tapestry out in the grand entrance way. I'm bored out of my mind i want nothing more than to go back and study the tapestry some more i swear it's weaved so well that i can still see the waves moving across the stitching. I know that it's over 500 years old but it just seems so real. the tapestry was one of the only things that was salvaged of the castle when oliver cromwell invaded trying to take over all of england and scotland. I meandered back out into the grand entryway and glancing nervously around i stretched to see my parents had captured the poor tour guide firing question after question at the poor woman. I shook my head and quickly ducked behind the velvet rope protecting the great weaving on the wall i strode in to take a closer look the weavings were impeccable much better than any of my cross stitching attempts. With a slightly shaking hand I reach up and glide my hand down across the fabric making it ripple in my hands wake and then there is a shift and suddenly in my peripheral vision i see the room blur out of focus and then I'm falling.