Morning all. This week is just chugging along isn’t it? Not sure if it is a good chug or a bad one. At the moment it just sort of seems strangely level. Which I can’t complain about. It is nice to find something level after all the ups and downs. Rather keep my excitement for after work hours or at least fictional. But for now we have the morning writing prompt. Perhaps it will contain the drama of the week and not let it spill out into everyday things. Fingers crossed and timers set for fifteen minutes.
I kind of like the mystery of this. Not sure where it is going but I like the thought of circling back.
Wednesday, October 29th: Who would even take such a thing?
“Who would even take such a thing?” I asked the empty room. There was of course, no answer. If there had been I would have been concerned. The house was it’s usual empty shell. ‘Soon it will be done,’ I reminded myself automatically.
I hated living in this house as a child. It was where I was sent when my parents decided they really couldn’t be bothered with a child. While they were married, I was sent out here to my grandparents when their work schedules took them out of town or when they went on vacations not suitable for small children. The year I started kindergarten, they divorced.
In court they agreed to share custody. In reality, I lived with my grandparents, my parents occasionally stopping by for short visits. The visits grew longer between and by the time I left elementary school they more or less stopped. I hadn’t seen either for more than two decades. I received a card on Christmas and another one sometime around my birthday. Mom usually sent it a month before and Dad was a month behind.
There were never any age markers on the cards as though they couldn’t remember my exact age and didn’t want to commit their guess to paper.
My grandparents took me because they didn’t think they could turn me away. They did the necessary things, fed me, made certain I had clothing and doctor’s visits. All that was necessary. Beyond that they more or less left me to my own devices. My grandfather said it promoted independence. I suppose it had. It hurt that when my cousins came to visit they were doted on when they visited. Their favorite foods made and presents, given just for visiting. I was told they didn’t need to do that with me since I lived there.
I was allowed complete access to the library and as they didn’t want a television in the house, I spent a lot of time reading. The books were the only things in the house I truly cared about. When they died they left the house and the contents to me. I heard mutterings from Aunts and Uncles but over all, everyone accepted it. There were individual bequests made and I made certain to drop them off as soon as possible. It quieted the rumbling.
Once everyone had what they needed I started clearing the house. It was going smoothly until the break in. I came home from a short walk, needing to clear the dust and cobwebs out of my mind. The door was open. I knew I had locked it, but In case I was wondering the lock was smashed, the door jam taking some damage as well. Luckily, I had my cell phone on me and called, letting the local police go into the house to investigate. The thieves were long gone.
Several of the carefully packed boxes were up turned and although it was a mess, nothing appeared to be missing. Someone was clearly looking for something. It wasn’t until I saw the small empty space on a shelf that I had yet to empty that I realized something had been taken.
Ten til Midnight 