The Letter

November 26, 2010
By butterflybooknerd04 SILVER, Henderson, Nevada
butterflybooknerd04 SILVER, Henderson, Nevada
5 articles 8 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Positive thinking leads to positive results.

Pulling her hair into a tight, bound bun, Jane looked at herself in the mirror, sadness filling the depths of her deep, dark, green eyes. Her red blotchy face did not go well with her black dress. Looking at herself in the mirror caused her to remember walking through the cemetery ten years ago with her grandfather on the way to her grandmothers grave, pierced her heart. It was too hard for Jane to handle losing her last living relative. Jane never met her parents, they died in a car accident when she was a baby and her grandmother died when she was eight years old. Edmund, her dear grandfather, just recently passed away and the last couple of weeks were hard on her. Remembering her grandfather Jane thought about all the times he took her to different museums around the world. He made sure she had the best education money could buy. Leaving the bathroom Jane decided to walk through her home one last time, since she would not have the money to keep the house. Edmund died without leaving her his 'Will' so she would not have the money or the ownership to keep the house. The stairs creaked as she went upstairs to her grandfather's office. Edmund never allowed her to enter his office so the curiosity was eating at her. Jane walked through the long, narrow hallway until she got to the very last door on the left. Opening the creaking door darkness engulfed her immediately. Feeling for the light switch Jane struggled to break through the darkness. The light shining from the ceiling enabled her to see the slightly dusty office. The soft chestnut chair welcomed her as she sat down and the steel box sitting on the desk caught Jane's attention immediately. Opening the box Jane found a letter sitting on the top of a stack of frail, dusty papers written to her before her grandfather passed away. Trembling, Jane opened the fragile letter and read:

" To my dearest Jane,

I have put in my 'Will', that has been enclosed with this letter, granting you half of everything I own including this magnificent house and half the ownership of my trading business. You must wonder who the other half belongs to and as this may be a shock to you it belongs to your sister. Your twin to be more specific.-"

Jane's heart stopped as she re-read those lines. Full of questions Jane began to read again.

"- Her name is Elaina and she lives in West Creek, Virginia. As the 'Will' is enclosed in this letter so is her address. I am hoping to tell you this before I die. Jane I hope you know that I have tried to give you all the love a child who has lost their parents can receive. I trust that you will take care of everything, being the responsible girl you are.

With all my love,

Your Grandfather"

A tear splattered on the desk as Jane dug through the envelope trying to locate Elaina's address. Finding it Jane grabbed a fresh piece of paper and a felt tip pen. Jane began to write a detailed letter, engrossing her ,with which felt like hours, to Elaina.

"Honk! Honk!", broke through the silence, startling Jane. Reluctantly Jane stopped writing her letter and for the first time noticed the pictures on her grandfathers desk. A pleasant picture of her grandfather and grandmother caused her to tear up and another picture had caught her eye, one she had never seen before, there was a handsome young man with his beautiful wife and they were holding two red-faced babies.

"Honk! Honk!", the horn sounded again, irritating Jane. Leaving the room and running down the stairs, Jane grabbed her things. The tapping of the rain against the window caused her to grab her umbrella as she headed outside. Although it was a dark, rainy day it seemed brighter to Jane knowing that she wasn't alone and that her grandfather would be thrilled that his funeral would be on a rainy day, thought Jane as she climbed into the dry, warm car.

The author's comments:
I wrote this story from a copy of an oil-painting called The Letter by Pierre Bonnard that my teacher gave me and the ideas just started flowing out.

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