Keep Moving
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- Parts 6
Twelve years ago my grandfather took me to our attic and unlocked his cedar chest, the one he always said carried memories of the broken old world. It looked like junk to me: tangles of ragged clothing, dulled knives and cans, and a stack of mildewed papers. He said it was his old 'kit,' one that kept him alive until we got the world back together. I'd always nodded and laughed at that, and he'd always shooed me away. Today was different; he reached into the chest, grasped the lowermost book in the stack, and tossed it to me.
"Read it. 'Tis not mine, but something I found along the way. This man and I grew up in a harsher world than yours. Maybe this'll help you understand."
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#36
streamofconsciousness
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I felt like I was in a bad dream and couldn't wake up, everything was spinning. My chest hurt from how hard my heart was thumping. This necklace, how in the world did it get here? I didn't take it back here with me, I left it on Frank's grave in Jersey. I discreetly pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, but I didn't wake up. This was real life. "Oh! That's mine, the string must've broken loose." I heard a voice. I saw feet at first. Yellow converse shoes. Then I saw pants. Black jeans. Then I saw a jacket. A green camo military jacket, not real obviously. Then I saw tattooed hands holding a coffee cup. They were red, most likely freshly washed. Then I met eyes with the person before me. I dropped the necklace and gasped loudly, holding back a shocked scream. The person's face fell, eyes going wide. They took a step back and then a cautious one forward. "Gerard?" They whispered. "Frank..." TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and suicidal actions, mentions of alcoholism and drug abuse, mentions of sexual assault (rape), mentions of cheating, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH
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