By Oscar Jacobsen
March 18 was a day of mourning. It was a very sad day indeed. Not four days prior, my great auntie Edna was alive and healthy. Now? Dead - her heart failed her again, and this time the paramedics were too late. We had always been very close, and I had always admired her for her intelligence. Today was the day of the funeral. The commute was very long; she was being buried out in Cranchester.
The funeral was an average one. There were tears here and there, and hugs all around. Then came the will reading. Might I mention that my auntie Edna, in her time, was exceptional at reading the stock market - among other things - and through this, made a fortune, so this event was largely anticipated. The paper read, “To my first son, Alexander, I am leaving my estate at 56 Pine Avenue, $50,000, and my stocks in Eten Farms. To my first daughter…” Finally, my name was presented. “To my great nephew William, I am leaving my work bookcase. He will know the one I am talking about.” I did. It was located in her study at her winter house where I would often visit her. I was slightly taken aback and disappointed by the bequest, for it was very abstract and inferior compared to all the others, which primarily consisted of estates, stocks, and money. However, she had always been an irregular and bizarre woman.
Precisely one week later, my family and I finally traveled out to Auntie Edna’s former home to transport my new bookcase. The house felt eerie and sinister without my great aunt’s presence, and we didn’t stay long after loading the bookcase into the car.
On the ride home, I became bored and decided to examine some of the books. I unbuckled my seatbelt, turned around, and reached for the closest book. It had a red leather cover with gold print which read, “A History of Music.” When I first touched the book, I felt a surge rush through my fingers, my arms, my chest, and finally my brain. At that moment, I knew all there was to know about music. I took my hand away from the book, and the feeling disappeared. I looked back at the book with shock, and curiosity. I reached for the book again, and the same feeling washed over me. I turned the first page and inside was an inscripted note which read, “Now you can be as smart as I.”
March 18 was a day of mourning. It was a very sad day indeed. Not four days prior, my great auntie Edna was alive and healthy. Now? Dead - her heart failed her again, and this time the paramedics were too late. We had always been very close, and I had always admired her for her intelligence. Today was the day of the funeral. The commute was very long; she was being buried out in Cranchester.
The funeral was an average one. There were tears here and there, and hugs all around. Then came the will reading. Might I mention that my auntie Edna, in her time, was exceptional at reading the stock market - among other things - and through this, made a fortune, so this event was largely anticipated. The paper read, “To my first son, Alexander, I am leaving my estate at 56 Pine Avenue, $50,000, and my stocks in Eten Farms. To my first daughter…” Finally, my name was presented. “To my great nephew William, I am leaving my work bookcase. He will know the one I am talking about.” I did. It was located in her study at her winter house where I would often visit her. I was slightly taken aback and disappointed by the bequest, for it was very abstract and inferior compared to all the others, which primarily consisted of estates, stocks, and money. However, she had always been an irregular and bizarre woman.
Precisely one week later, my family and I finally traveled out to Auntie Edna’s former home to transport my new bookcase. The house felt eerie and sinister without my great aunt’s presence, and we didn’t stay long after loading the bookcase into the car.
On the ride home, I became bored and decided to examine some of the books. I unbuckled my seatbelt, turned around, and reached for the closest book. It had a red leather cover with gold print which read, “A History of Music.” When I first touched the book, I felt a surge rush through my fingers, my arms, my chest, and finally my brain. At that moment, I knew all there was to know about music. I took my hand away from the book, and the feeling disappeared. I looked back at the book with shock, and curiosity. I reached for the book again, and the same feeling washed over me. I turned the first page and inside was an inscripted note which read, “Now you can be as smart as I.”
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