Granny's Revenge revised 2 compatible mode

The Bloody Beginning

The late afternoon sun makes a faint appearance through the cloudy skies. A crisp northern wind sweeps through the area, making the dreary day seem colder than it is. The reaming bits of snow scattered across the lawn add to this arctic feel.

Why Lord, why did you have to take him too? Matilda sobs. She glances towards her Grandson's casket and then his picture beside it. I remember the day the photo was taken. She wipes tears from her face as she pictures the day in her mind.

"What do you think, Grandma?" Troy asks, stepping into the room.

Granny looks up from the forest-green sofa. She lays the book in her lap,  smiles, and says, "You look fine, boy, real fine; any girl should feel lucky to have you for her date."

Troy nervously straightens his tie. "I hope she thinks so."

"I'm sure she will. Now stand right there and let me get your picture." Tossing the blanket aside, she grabs the camera from the pine colored coffee-table.  It and the two end tables on the opposite sides of the couch is a matching set. 

Troy taps the face of his watch. "I'm already late, Grams."

She steps in front of the door. "You're not leaving this house until I get my picture, young man."

We used to quarrel over everything. A few of their silly arguments come to mind, she smiles. She then thinks back to when Troy came to stay with her. She wasn't sure she could handle an infant at her age, but his parents were killed by a drunk driver leaving him nowhere else to go. It was a big change for both of us, but we managed.  She then remembers Troy's toddler years.

"Park, Nana park," he'd say, jumping into his wagon.

I couldn't say no to you, no matter how tired I was. She recalls his first day of school. He was a brave little soldier, but she cried the whole way there.

"I'll be alright, Nana, I promise," he says kissing her teary face.

You always were a sweet child, despite it all. She remembers how it'd break her heart when she'd find him crying by their window. 

"Why can't I play like them Nana, why?" He'd sob in her arms. Born with a heart defect, Troy's activities were limited.

You don't have to worry about restrictions anymore. A small ray of sun peeks through the clouds like he's smiling at her from above. You go have fun, baby, make up for all the lost time. 

"Are you ready to go, Matilda?"

"Huh, what?" she asks.

"His services are over, dear."

She looks up to find her friends walking to their cars. "Yes, of course." Grabbing her cane, she rises to her feet.

"Our preacher gave a beautiful eulogy, don't you think?" Marge asks as she helps her across the lawn.  

"Yes, it was very nice. I appreciated all the kind things everyone said." She sniffles. Matilda opens the car door and slides inside

"He was a great guy, you raised him well."

"Thank you, Marge." 

"Would you like to stop anywhere before I take you home?" Marge asks pulling onto the highway.

"I'd rather just go back to the home rest up  a bit  if you don't mind."

"Of course, dear."

Matilda was moved to an assisted living facility after her fateful fall. She was told she could return to her house when she becomes a little steadier on her feet. She glances at the old, brick structure beside her. I wish I can move back now; she tearfully thinks. The place is nice, the staff friendly, but it isn't home.

Seeing that she's struggling, Marge unfastens her seat belt. "Here, let me help."

"No, no I've got it." 

"Call me If you need anything, even if you just want to get out for a while."

"Thank you, Marge." Matilda turns and sighs. No sense in putting off the inevitable. She trudges up the walk.

Matilda's nurse, Liz runs to her the moment she steps inside. "How are you, Ms. Brennan? Can I get you anything, tea, or a snack perhaps?"

Granny glances around the colorless room and sighs again. The plastic-covered furnishings, walls, and curtains were all drab, earth-toned colors. "I've had an exhausting day and would like to lay down for a bit if you don't mind."

"Of course, hon; here let me help you." Liz takes her arm in hers.

Matilda pulls away. "I can manage just fine on my own."

Liz nervously shifts her weight. "Yes, of course, you can, I just thought that..."

Matilda pats her hand again. "It's ok, dear; I know you're only trying to help."

***

The bitterly cold wind sweeps through the area, chilling the elderly lady to her bones. The frigid temperature will be worthwhile in the end. Granny Betty glances toward the dark, starless sky. Fastening her coat around herself, she heads toward the bar. There's a small yard on either side of the walkway. Four small steps lead to a pine colored deck at the end. A string of Christmas lights is looped along the front of the patio. I'll make sure other families won't have to go through what mine has. A tall thick man stumbles into her. She tries to maintain her balance, but her feet slip out from under her; she falls to the ground. "Watch where you're going, bozo."

"Sorry ma'am, I didn't see you there." He offers her his hand.

She shoves it away. "I don't need your drunken ass to help me up."

"I was only trying to be polite." He stumbles sideways.

"I wouldn't have fallen if you weren't so sloshed." She reaches over and picks up her cane and then rises to her feet. "I suppose you plan to drive home in that condition?"

"What's it to you if I do? Isn't it a little late for someone your age to be out preaching morals anyway?"

"Are you calling me old? Well, I'll show you old, sonny. I'll teach you a thing or two about respect too." She lifts her cane and whacks him in the back of the legs. 

His legs jerk forward and then fold underneath him. He drops to his knees; his top half tumbles to the ground.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners, boy; tell you to respect your elders?" She smacks her cane across his back. Air whooshes from his lungs. "That's what's wrong with you youngsters these days, you don't have an ounce of morals in your entire body because your daddy didn't spank your pampered asses enough." She whacks him again and again. "My daddy used to take a stick to my backside when I got out of line and it didn't ruin me the way they claim. In fact, it made me stronger, taught me right from wrong." She thumps his head with her stick.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be more respectful to you, and all the other grannies, I promise." He tries to stand. 

She wallops him across the back, he plummets to the ground. She hits him again for good measure.

"Geez lady, take it easy, alright. I said I'm sorry, what more do you want?"

"I don't believe your lying drunken ass for a second." She lifts her cane to his neck and squeezes its handle. They hear a high-pitched swish as a bullet-shaped object projects from the bottom of her walking stick. She takes a quick step back.

A harrowing pain radiates across his neck when the sharp frozen mass pierces his artery. The man grabs his neck. A warm, sticky liquid oozes between his fingers. "What the fuck?" He finds his hand covered in blood when he pulls it away. His jaw drops. The color drains from his bronze face. "Help me, please somebody help me." He struggles to get to his feet. His head feels woozy; his surroundings begin to spin. "Help me, please help me." He takes an unsure step. He tries to take another but plummets face-first to the ground. He tries to get up, but he's so weak that he collapses in the dirt.

"You lose blood quicker if you move around."

Looking down, he discovers a large puddle pooling below him. "Help me, please someone help me," he screams again.

"Getting excited helps blood flow too. Besides, no one can hear you over that racket you guys call music."

He glances up at her, tears in his eyes. "Why did you do this, why?"

"I want to make sure another family's life isn't ruined by a drunk driver."

***

The retirement home's colorless hallway is finally peaceful with all the residents tucked in for the night. The staff darts to and fro, trying to finish up. A faint smell of disinfectant wafts through the warm air.

I think I'll check on Ms. Brennan see how she's doing. Liz lightly taps on her door. There's no reply. She taps again and walks in. "I brought you a little snack, Ms. Brennan. I figured you'd be hungry since you skipped dinner." Liz finds the sparsely furnished room to be completely empty. I wonder where she could be. She sees one of her assistants when she steps into the hall. 

Nancy is the youngest of her assistant graduating high school last fall. With her five-foot-five frame and athletic build, she's a welcomed addition to the team.

"Have you talked to Ms. Brennan?"

"Not since she's returned, why?"

"She's not in her room."

"I bet her friend picked her up for bible study."

"Bible study, of course." Liz then remembers how Ms. Brennan cried all afternoon. "I'm sure it'll do her some good."