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So It Begins

By , Ventnor City, NJ
"So it begins." I muttered under my breath as I rung the fading yellow-orange doorbell of my pap's eerie Victorian home just outside of Pennsylvia. An extravagent lion was carved into the wooden door. At least he didn't forget his pathetic love for animals. I'd been an eleven year gap since I last visited the bloody old coot, and I'd be pretty damned if he was still the ol' eccentric pappy I once remembered. I was proved wrong, until a faint light grew vivid inside, and a blurry figure approached the door. " You little bugger. Is that you?" A voice asked nervously.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Can you open the door please?"
It grew silent. Then the old bugger opened the door slowly, coughed loudly, and grinned as if he won a million dollars. I gave a welcoming smile back, politely. A wave of wrinkles were scattered across my grandfathers clammy hands, and on his pale face.
He shrugged his shoulders. "You've grown up alot since I last saw that devilish face, come on in, Savannah just made a heap of delicious cullen skink for dinner. You remember Savannah right?"
Savannah was my grandfather's maid. She was beautiful when she wanted to be, with her golden brown hair always swishing. But good god, I didn't know that she was still here.
"Why wouldn't I?" I chuckled.
"I didn't know if you'd remembered."
"Well, I do. Look, I'm not going to be here for that long, I've got to go somewhere important.
He managed a chuckle. "Good god, you're like I was as a young lad, always in a rush."
I walked over to the fire place and bowed my head against the rust brick, and sighed.
"I still might be a jack**s, but I know things." He recalled from behind me.
"You sure got that right. By the way, what is it that you called me for?" I asked.
His face grew blank, and a sudden emotion of sadness appeared.
I cringed. "Was it something I said?"
"No.. It's just that... I don't how to properly explain this..but..." He faded away.
"But what?" I asked.
The orange-yellow flames flickered and glowed through the dark family room, an ominous silence.
He spoke softly, but faintly. "I'm dying."
"What? But... how?"
"Tumor in my brain, I'd just thought it'd be best if you knew...."

After he explained what the problem was, and throughly convinced me that he'd been really dying, and he didn't have much time left, I got up from the couch.
"Alex....." He said, and that was all I heard as I walked silently down the street towards my aunt's house, about a couple of blocks away.
He died in late December in 2011. My family all went to his funeral in early January, but I didn't arrive to his funeral at all, after all the convincing words my parents said. I was too embarressed. Too careless. Sure, I loved him, but all he is, is a distant memory. All dust and dreams.
But, I still think of him about every second of the day, not a single moment that I don't, but what I do know is, is that he's probably thinking, 'Well...So it begins.'

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Jade.I.AmThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 13, 2013 at 4:08 pm
hey.....this was really good...personal experience? It read like a novel....anyways, this was really good!! good writing ESPOSO XD
R41N. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 7, 2013 at 8:45 pm
I can't say I completely understand your emotions in this article, whether they're sad or neutral; however you have a very unique sense of writing. Not many people put a personal experience in a story like setting. Great work.
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