Grandpa Vert: A Short Story

The small family of three sits in the brightly lit hospital room drinking watery coffee in silence. A young nurse exclaims, interrupting the dead air. “You can see him now if you would like”. Effraye, the mother of the family jumps at the sudden noise. Her husband leaves the waiting room to see his dying father one last time. Effraye and her daughter follow him quietly avoiding the nurse 's gaze. Vigne 's grandfather speaks in almost a whisper “I would like you to have this book that has been passed on from generation to generation of the Croyance family”. Vigne accepts the large, brown old looking book awkwardly. “Thank you grandpa Vert”. The rest of her family says their goodbyes and Vert takes his last breath and the monitor beeps. Her

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good day” The clerk tells Vigne softly

Vigne nodded and took off home. Again while she walked she saw the tall old man. Every night after that Vigne would dream of the man warning her about the book. After a particularly bad dream, she could not fall asleep again. She decided to go on a walk. She walked through the park that was near her home. As she walked she thought about the book. She hated it. She looked around her area, as the wind chilled her bones. Her heart leaped as she saw the scraggly old man again. Vigne frowned deeply and ran as fast as she possibly could. Whenever Vigne had a nightmare she would go on a walk. The wind would soothe her nerves. Though almost every night she saw the man. It got to the point that she would take different routes. But always, she saw him. Standing in the moonlight with a snarl on his face. It was a Thursday afternoon when Vigne got home from school. She happily skipped into her bedroom. She hadn’t seen the man the night before when she went on her walk so she was happy. Her smile fell off of her face as she stood in front of her bed. The book sat neatly on her pillow, mocking her. Vigne screamed, enraged and afraid. Vigne swung the book at the wall watching it crash against it, leaving a mark on the wall. She ran and picked the book up again punching, and hitting the book. Tears streamed down her face as she glared down at the book. Vigne could not fathom why the book came back. She was afraid, and felt