IGKTW: Abigail's Will. (1081 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.88 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Bigmike (View user info) at 2006-04-24 01:49:18 EDT
Jessica was sitting in the lawyers' office feeling a little uncomfortable as she watched the video.
"I, Abigail Gordon, being of sound mind and body do hereby bequeath my mortal possessions as follows......"
It was a creepy video of her Grandma Abigail doling out her possessions. She had died of natural causes a month ago at the ripe old age of one hundred and one. It had taken this long to get all the relatives together for the viewing of the video.
"I leave to my grandson Daniel, my fine collection of puzzles which he so enjoyed helping me with........."
Jessica looked over at Danny and chuckled as she saw the sour look on his face.
"Serves him right, the bastard" was all she could think. She and Danny hadn't been getting along too well lately.
"To my son Ronald, you good for nothing beggar, I leave all the furniture in the house. It's not worth much, but you took me for most of what I had anyway so you might as well have the furniture as well....................."
"Ha, Ha" Jessica thought. At least the old broad had a sense of humor. She was right. Her father was a good for nothing beggar and was always hounding Grandma for money or something.
"To my dear granddaughter Jessica......"
Jessica's ears perked up hearing her dead grandmother speak her name.
"...................I bequeath the entire contents of my hope chest. Jessica dear, I have given a key to my lawyer and instructed him to have you, and only you take possession of it."
Jessica looked over to Rich Sparks. Rich was handling Abigail's will and he was also looking at Jessica. He had a smile on his face as if to say, "Sorry dear, but that's all she left you. I hope it's enough."
Jessica ignored the rest of the video will. She really wasn't interested in what her grandmother was feeding to the rest of these vultures. After the ordeal was over and the disappointed relatives were heading out to their cars, Rich Sparks came over and asked Jessica for a few moments.
"Jessica, I've got the key to your grandmother's hope chest here. I just need you to sign a few documents. It's a formality, but it needs to be done."
He handed Jessica a pen and she signed the papers right there in the foyer. After Rich notarized the papers in all the right places, he handed an envelope to Jessica.
"Your grandmother told me that the hope chest was her most precious possession," he said. "She wanted you to have the contents because she knew you would appreciate them. Good luck."
Jessica took the envelope and put it in her purse. She drove back to her apartment and decided to relax. She had taken the day off from work so she was going to enjoy it. As she was sitting at her kitchen table, she opened up her purse and took out the envelope. She ripped it open and took the key to the hope chest out to examine it. There was a string tied around the key and the string led to a tag of sorts. The tag had Abigail's grandiose script writing on it with the words "For you my dear Jessica. Be careful." It was an old style skeleton key and was heavier than she suspected it would be. It was also a surprisingly bright, shiny gold color. Jessica was amazed that it looked so new seeing how Abigail had owned that chest for nearly seventy years. Hell, she might have had it for ninety years. Jessica held the smooth gold key in her hand for quite awhile that night, wondering what could possibly be stored away in Grammy Abigail's beloved hope chest, and why she should have to be careful.
Three days later, on the weekend, Jessica went to her grandmother's house. It was open because her father was there moving the furniture he had inherited into a moving truck. She said hello to him and asked him where he thought grandmother had kept her hope chest. He directed her to the attic, that being the last place he had remembered it to be. She bid him farewell and went into the house. Childhood memories immediately flooded her senses. The smell of apple pie as she passed the kitchen, the feeling of warmth as she looked into the living room, remembering when her grandmother used to read her books by the fireplace, the fear of walking up that long dark staircase.
"Nothing to be afraid of now," she thought to herself as she climbed the stairs. She had just reached the top and had started to proceed down the hall when she nearly had a heart attack.
"HI JESSIE!" roared Daniel as he jumped out from one of the bedrooms right near the top of the stairs.
"Goddammit Danny, why must you always be such an asshole?!?" You scared the living shit out of me."
"Just collecting my puzzles, don't you know. Hey, some of these are old; I'll bet they might be worth some money to a collector."
"Asshole," Jessica spat as she walked down the hall towards the attic door. She opened the door and walked up the attic stairs. When she got to the top she observed that the vultures had picked the attic clean all except for one item. An old, dusty chest sat against the far wall. She walked over to the lone light bulb hanging from the ceiling and pulled its string. Having more light revealed to her that someone had already been over to the chest and had been playing with it, curious as to its contents. She inspected the chest and tried to move it. It was heavy, but with some determination she was able to move it closer to the light so she could inspect it more carefully. It was a beautifully put together piece and with a little work, would make a great addition to her apartment. She knelt down in front of the chest and pulled out her shiny gold key. With anticipation and a little nervousness she inserted the key into the keyhole and began to turn. It turned as if it were a brand new lock, easily and without much effort. Once she had turned the key three hundred and sixty degrees, she put both hands on the top of the chest and flipped the top up.
Fabric. That's all she saw. Different types of fabric. She started to pull out the pieces, inspecting them all, one by one. As far as she could tell, they were all silks and they were all in fabulous shape. There were rich blues and sparkling reds. There were prints like she had never seen before. When she got down to the bottom of the chest, she lifted up a rather large piece of paisley print silk and uncovered a box.
It was a sturdy wooden box which she thought was made of oak. As she lifted it out of the hope chest she noticed how heavy and solid it was. She gently put it down next to her and started to put the silks back into the chest, folding them all neatly as she did. When she was done with that task she turned her attention to the box.
It was shiny and reminded her of a humidor she had seen in a cigar catalogue. It was roughly a twelve by twelve square and had a very shiny finish. There was a golden latch in the front that kept the top secured to the bottom and there were intricate carvings around this latch that looked like flowers or a grapevine. Jessica reached down and flipped the latch. She gently lifted the top of the box open and looked inside.
The inside was all red velvet the looked suspiciously like her grandmothers heavy drapes downstairs. Inset into the red velvet were two bottles. These bottles were about ten inches long and just a couple of inches wide. In between the two bottles was a slip of paper folded neatly. It looked like the paper was sealed with some kind of waxy substance. Jessica had a feeling that this box hadn't been opened in a very, very long time if at all. She reached for the folded paper, lifted it out of the box and examined it. It had script like writing on it that was similar to her grandmothers' handwriting. She didn't think it was her grandmothers though because it was very formal and intricate. On the front of the paper it said "The legend of Lost Thoughts".
Jessica was intrigued but didn't have the time to stay and read the paper. It was getting late and she had to get home. She quickly locked up the hope chest, picked up the wooden box, and headed for the stairs. The hope chest would have to wait for removal. The box could come with her. When she left, she hadn't realized how long she had been there. Everybody was gone from the house and her father had left her a note pinned to the door. "Don't forget to lock up" was all it said.
"Dork" she thought as she opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, turning the lock on the end of the doorknob as she did. She checked the doorknob to make sure it was secure after she closed the door. "Don't need any hassle from the old man" she thought as she ran down the stairs, box in tow.
Jessica could hardly get through work the next day. It was Friday and she was anxious and excited to examine the contents of the box when she got home. She wondered what the legend was all about and she also wondered about her grandmother. Maybe there was more to the old broad than she thought. Five O'clock came and she headed home with a song in her heart and anticipation on her sleeve.
When she arrived home she pulled the box out immediately. She opened the latch and took the piece of paper out. She carefully separated the wax and unfolded the paper. As she looked at the old calligraphy, she found where the writing began and she started reading.
"The legend of Lost Thought is steeped in mystery and intrigue. Nobody has ever found the origin of these bottles and, it is said, nobody ever will. These bottles are dangerous for the user and the proper amount of caution should be used towards the fulfillment of the legend.
It is said that in the last days of Christ a soothsayer named Mordecai came to the temples at Jerusalem and laid down a prophecy. This prophecy was one of nature, the cause and effect of human nature as it pertains to perspective. Mordecai was a very talented and skilled soothsayer and people from all around came to hear him talk of things fantastic to the minds of mere mortals. Mordecai's one calling was the ability to hold lost thoughts. Thoughts floating in the wind. Thoughts casually discarded. He was said to have the ability to pluck them out of the collective consciousness and use them to his advantage.
While on his death bed, Mordecai revealed to a select few, the location of two bottles. One bottle, the legend says, will give the user the ability to see and feel the true nature of thought. It will give the imbiber of the liquid the ability to steal thought from any person, anytime. Mordecai warned that this skill, unless used wisely, could drive a person insane. Mordecai himself even admitted that he felt as if he were going to go mad because he had used this ability. Thus, the second bottle. The second bottle will allow the user to revert back to his or her normal self, never to remember the events witnessed by the power of the first bottle. The liquid in the second bottle also returns any stolen thoughts to the original owner.
Mordecai knew the importance of having a failsafe. He would commonly devise techniques or potions that would perform wonderful events only to have another technique or potion to remedy the effects of the original.
He was a paradox of sorts that still has yet to be figured out to this day. He disappeared as quickly as he arrived and his legend only lives on with the contents of this box.
Treat the shaded bottle carefully reader for it is the key to things yet unknown to the modern world. Remember, the clear bottle is there for your regret, or your sanity whichever it may be."
At the bottom of the paper there was an inscription written in a language that Jessica didn't understand. She looked at it for a very long time, trying to decipher what it said or what letters were even part of the inscription. When she decided that she couldn't figure it out, she laid the paper to the side and reached for the bottle nestled in the right side of the box. She gently picked it up and felt its weight. It was about half full of a shady, smoky liquid that, when shaken, looked as if it had the consistency of syrup. It was heavier than she expected it to be and as she held it up to the light it seemed to have debris floating around in it. There was no writing on the bottle and after a few minutes of examination, she put it back in its place in the box.
She reached for the second bottle and lifted it right out with no effort at all. As a matter of fact, it was so extremely light that she almost dropped it to the floor. This bottle was very clear. The liquid had no color or debris; no real consistency to speak of. She gave the bottle a little shake and noticed that the liquid inside didn't move around all that much. It was like she was holding a bottle of air that was just transforming into liquid. There was no writing on this bottle either, and with a slight feeling of disappointment she put the bottle back in its place in the box.
Jessica picked up the paper off the table and read the legend again. She then neatly folded it up and replaced it in its place in the box. She closed the box and the minute she did, an overwhelming feeling of depression hit her. She decided that it was just a headache coming on and went to the cabinet for an aspirin, leaving the box on the table. She looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost nine P.M. She took a few aspirin, took a last look at the box, and then went upstairs to bed.
Her dreams were murky and sinister that night. She dreamt of being able to see the thoughts of people. She dreamt of words floating around people's heads like birds fluttering to alight on a feeder. The words would move slowly at first and then more quickly as the person thinking them continued their train of thought. Before they dispersed into the air, they would be circling furiously around, a tornado of words creating a vortex above the thinkers head. She awoke before her alarm went off, surrounded by a sea of sweat, hair matted to her pillow, sheets soaked through to her mattress. She looked at the clock and it read five fifteen. She knew she had to get up, she couldn't go back to sleep in the nervous state she was in.
She headed downstairs to make some coffee.
Once in the kitchen, she turned on the light and opened a cupboard above the kitchen counter. She pulled out a can of Maxwell House and set it on the counter. She reached back into the cupboard, pulled a filter out of a package, inserted it into the coffee maker and filled it with coffee. She grabbed the carafe from the coffee machine, turned to the sink, rinsed it and filled it with cold water. As she started to pour the water into the machine, she caught a glimpse of the kitchen table in her peripheral vision. She sensed something was amiss and turned to the table to see what it was. Her eyes went wide as she saw the box on the table. She quickly finished pouring the water into the coffee maker, turned it on, and went over to the table. She sat down heavily as she inspected the tabletop.
The box was open.
She was sure that she had closed it before she went to bed. She was positive. Yet here it was, open wide, two bottles standing upright, right in front of her chair. She looked at the shadowy contents of the bottle on the left and then turned her attention to the clear contents in the bottle on the right. She reached for the clear one and almost jumped out of her skin when it moved away from her hand as she reached for it. At almost the same instant, the other bottle moved closer to her hand as if willing her to take it instead. The smell of fresh coffee started to fill the room. Jessica pulled her hand back, went to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup of coffee, and came back to the table. As she sat down, she noticed that the bottles were back in their original positions. She took a sip of coffee and stared at them, waiting to see what, if anything, would happen next.
Nothing did.
She drank two cups of coffee waiting for the bottles to move again, but they never did. She picked up the paper from the box and re-read the legend.
"Treat the shaded bottle carefully reader for it is the key to things yet unknown to the modern world. Remember, the clear bottle is there for your regret, or your sanity whichever it may be."
She considered the shaded bottle carefully. As she went to reach for it, it moved quickly towards her hand, almost jumping off the table into her waiting palm. A fuzzy sensation came over her at once, and she could hear a tune in her head. It seemed like it was very far away, almost as if it were traveling quite a distance to get to her, but she could hear it anyway. The longer she held the bottle, the louder it got. It was a guitar, she was quite sure of it. The tune was old, or she interpreted it as old. It sounded like an old blues tune, the kind she heard on the radio from time to time late at night. As she listened to that tune, she got the feeling that she was floating away. That feeling became stronger and stronger until she became totally engulfed by it.
She never even noticed that she had taken the stopper out of the bottle, lifted it to her lips, and drank its contents.
***********************************************************
Jessica was hearing music.
"I was born in a suitcase, my daddy was a traveling man.
My ma was a head case, been chasing life but it just ran.
And all my life, I been a lonesome man."
"Wake up there honey. Now I said wake up there. I ain't gonna let you sleep the whole damn day away sugah. You get up now, you hear?"
Jessica awoke with a start, frantically looking around the room to see who was talking to her. Her kitchen looked exactly as it should. She could smell coffee and as she looked over at the coffee maker, she wondered who had made it. She looked on the table in front of her and saw an empty cup, but couldn't remember drinking any coffee. She saw that the box on the table was closed, but that the legend was spread out in front of her. She reached out for the box.
"Take y'alls hands out my box sugah."
Jessica nearly jumped out of her chair. "Who.....uh.....who said that?" She stammered, frantically looking around the room.
There was no answer, just some music in her head. She never really noticed it until now, but it seemed like this song had been playing in her head since she awoke.
"I got nobody, just a bottle and this old shot glass.
And if I let it, I bet it's gonna kick my ass.
And all my life, I been a lonesome man."
"You takin my words honey. My thoughts. My song. You ain't deserving of 'em though. Nope, not even a teensy bit. You best get to travellin because I got a long way to go before I'm done through with you sugah."
Jessica stood up quickly, looking around the kitchen. He chair shot out from under her and went crashing into the wall causing a picture hanging on the wall to fall, glass breaking all over the floor.
"Don't get all riled up sweetie. It's gonna be all right. You gonna turn out just fine. You want to drink the magic, you gots to suffer the knowledge. It ain't so bad once you gets used to it baby. Di'nt old lady Abigail teach y'all anything?"
"You know my Grammy?" Jessica squeaked out sounding like a twelve year old girl on her first movie date.
"Why of course I does sugah. Evahbody know Abigail. Hell, she done brung us all togethuh with that damn liquid of hers."
Jessica was just beginning to notice the quality of the voice she was hearing. It was gravelly like when someone wakes up after too many cigarettes. It was as if the speakers throat was full of mucus that just wouldn't come out. It was a southern drawl as well, which made her just a little disconcerted.
As she listened to the voice, it finally dawned on her to open the box. As she went to open it, no voice came this time. She opened it and picked up the only bottle inside. It felt light as a feather, and as she lifted it up, she could see the remnants of a small amount of smoky fluid in the bottom.
Then she remembered. She was stealing somebody's thoughts. She looked for the other bottle, but it was nowhere to be found.
Jessica started to panic. She checked all over the kitchen, she ran upstairs to her bedroom, she even searched the bathroom. No luck. No bottle. She finally sat down on the edge of her bed, trying to remember what happened to the other bottle. It was clear to her that she drank the smoky liquid, but where was the other potion, the one that stopped her from stealing thoughts?
"Don't you fret sugah pie. You come and see me and we'll hash it out togethuh. I'm sure that we can figure it all out for y'all."
Jessica could hear the music once again.
"I got no money, no women and I got no home.
I will though someday, even if it's overgrown.
And all my life, I been a lonesome man."
To be continued if you all like it.
If you don't, I'll probably finish it anyway out of spite. :)
User Reviews
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-04-27 13:31:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
what they said
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:52:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:27:54 (#)
Ranking: 1
Why I'm not giving this a +2 for this contest, as it certainly is a +2 on it's own merit:
1) relevance to theme, &
2) I cannot rate based on what this might become if continued.
Ok, time for bigmike to state why he thinks this is relevant.
Our main character is going through a hard time. She has lost her Grandmother and her family are pretty much a bunch of shits. She is also going through a journey of her own which, incidentally, starts with the hope chest she inherits. It may not be your typical blues related post, but it made sense to me.
As far as what it will become?
We shall see if I move on to the next round. That was the plan all along. To try to do well enough to get to the next round and carry the story through, maybe to completion throughout this contest.
In any even, it is something I can carry through even if I don't go through to the end of the contest.
I fail to see why you would rate something on what it might become, but I'm glad it made you smile.
Thanks for reading it as well.
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-04-27 11:27:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Why I'm not giving this a +2 for this contest, as it certainly is a +2 on it's own merit:
1) relevance to theme, &
2) I cannot rate based on what this might become if continued.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-04-27 10:57:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm with Trinity, because there'd better be a next installment.
Or else.
You hear me? OR ELSE.
Submitted by Soley_Trinity (user info) at 2006-04-25 14:37:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'll keep an eye out for the next installment.
Submitted by badassmofo (user info) at 2006-04-25 14:19:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
lovely
Submitted by Stuch (user info) at 2006-04-25 07:18:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Aiya (user info) at 2006-04-24 19:50:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
It was hard for me to get into this at first, but by the time I was about halfway through you had me hooked :)
Submitted by Aiya (user info) at 2006-04-24 19:50:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It was hard for me to get into this at first, but by the time I was about halfway through you had me hooked :)
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-04-24 14:26:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
way not to suck.
Submitted by ooQueso (user info) at 2006-04-24 14:10:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Dude. I've never read a post this long and liked it. Keep it comin, man!
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2006-04-24 12:53:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-24 12:40:37 (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry man. Coffee just kicked in.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-24 12:40:07 (#)
Ranking: 2
Nobody wants to read stories that long, you old tit.
Also... the wise old broad named Abigail... MOTHER Abigail? You're ripping off Stephen King, you prick, and that really pissxesx me oppsfwsbghqwey raWEJj!!
Lol. Has nothing to do with Mother Abigail. Didn't even think of it until I had already posted.
Different Abigail, different story.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-24 12:40:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry man. Coffee just kicked in.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-04-24 12:40:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nobody wants to read stories that long, you old tit.
Also... the wise old broad named Abigail... MOTHER Abigail? You're ripping off Stephen King, you prick, and that really pissxesx me oppsfwsbghqwey raWEJj!!
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-04-24 10:27:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Cool.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-04-24 09:30:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You'd BETTER finish this...
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-04-24 07:53:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very Neil Gaiman, I enjoyed.
Submitted by Hilarity_Ensues (user info) at 2006-04-24 07:34:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 02:02:49 (#)
Ranking: 2
Please continue, very interesting story.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 06:58:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm willing to make the leap that having a grandparent die is "Hard Times" and that going on a magical journey into whatever is "Travelling Tales", and you only really need to do one, so I'll say he's on theme.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-04-24 04:55:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You HAVE to continue this.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-04-24 03:42:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Some doubts about relevance to theme, but it was good enough to offset that.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-24 02:02:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Please continue, very interesting story.