I'll tell you when the first tear falls

grandfather

CHAPTER 11: MY GRANDFATHER

How could it be my grandfather? I've never seen that man before, and now his soul will never leave my side. I shiver at that thought, there's something about him that doesn't feel right. What could it be?

"Are you gonna come join us for dinner?" my mom broke off the silence that was shifting through the air between us. I wanted to stay a little longer in the library, something about it clenched on to my senses all together and made me want to stay in that place for a little longer than I should.

"yeah I'll just- just be there in a second" I didn't know how to reply.

"okay, don't be too long, we're having Sunday dinner!" she said as sje paced with excitement out of the door. What is Sunday dinner? It sounds so typically English.  I don't know.

I walk over to one of the tall bookshelfs; I run my fingers along the hard backs of the acient books as I open the book I picked up earlier. The book must be at least over 100 years by the state of paper. I carried on flickering through the pages, some had pictures and some didn't.  I couldn't understand anything that was written. I got to page 57 and looked at a photograph. My mom was on that photograph- child, about 6. I immediately noticed her hair colour through the little hat she wore. The blue just below knee length stood out in the photograph as she was with other people in it. To her right, stood a woman with a gray knee length skirt and a classy blazer matching it. The clothes looked a little plain but that wasn't what caught my real attention, my grandfather was there too, holding a boys hand, a little boy not much younger than my mother. Who can he be? Is he a realtive of my moms, perhaps my uncle, no one knows.

When I rest the book down in the middle of the table and take last look at it peralente de monto. Last read. I starts towards the library door, I turn around and the book is floating in mid air, it throws itself towards the bookshelf, I gasp, I blink and squeeze my eyes together and hope that was just my imagination. I look around the room and see my grandfathers reflection in the mirror. Grinning.

This time he's holding a knife in his right hand and a 6 year old version of my mother, in the left.