This Mother’s Day, I received a gift from my youngest son, Dave, who is 12. He had been given a story prompt in class, and what he created is a work of wonder. Teacher Comments: “Excellent Work Dave” and “Great Suspense! I love your vocabulary.” (So do we all)
Since he did so well, he decided to gift me this tale as a prompt for me to work with. Thank you Davey. This is marvelous. I love you, kiddo ❤
Admittedly, I’m a having a proud mama moment.
For the first time in seven years, I was entering the attic. After crawling up the hatch, I instantly felt watched. Suddenly a trunk that looked like it ha been in stasis for 200 years just appeared of nowhere. I nearly fell down the steps.
After arming myself with a hammer and a crowbar, I ambled back up the steps. As I did so, I heard some faint whispering coming from the box. I disregarded it, thinking that it was just my family watching TV.
I bashed the lock open with the hammer; a thousand painful screams came from the box, sending me flying down the stairs again and to my family for help.
There was an empty silence in the air as everyone was trying to calm down. I took one final trip up those stairs, my family coming with.
As I busted off the wood barring the trunk closed, there was nothing, only a small creak as I opened the box. Peering into it, I saw a lone book. I picked it up and blew the dust on it away.
It appeared to be a journal. When I opened it, what I saw shocked me…