The Beginning And The End

Chapter 1

I touch the soft fabric of my old crimson hood. It must have been 20 or so years before I last put the velvet cloak on, and yet, it was in perfect condition. I remember the feel of it when you draped it on, the weight of a cloud. The soft woosh when you turned; the hood, which allowed me to be invisible when I did not want to be seen-I remember. It all happened when I was just eleven years old… Grandma got sick. We weren’t expecting it, she had been perfectly healthy the day before, or so we thought. The doctors say she has Pulmonary fibrosis, which means that there is scarring in the lungs. They say there is no cure, and we can expect her to be with us for less than a year. Tops. We wanted to believe that she would survive, but I know better. Grandma has had a weak immune system even before she was diagnosed, so the future is looking a bit grim. She’s not going to make it. Mom is becoming crazy, trying to keep herself busy to not focus on the pain. But it’s not just her. We all are. I can hardly focus at times. I feel oddly detached from this word. Like someone turned the gravity upside down, and I’m stuck in the air and can’t reach the floor. My father, he’s the worst. He’s been a wreck. He thinks we can’t hear him cry at night, repeating the same word over and over again: “Why?”. My mother is encouraging us to help Grandma in any way we can. I’ve been assigned the job to go visit her, once a month. -three months later- “Hello, Grandma!” “Hello, dear. Did you get here safely?” Grandma answers back. “Yes. Oh, I forgot! I have something for you.” I say eagerly as I place a blue iris in a vase by her bedside table. “It’s an iris - your favorite.” I had found it near the river, hiding behind a bush. It was the prettiest thing I had seen on my journey. Its blue ombre on the petals, the fresh dew droplets from the recent morning humidity; I knew Grandma would love it. Grandma’s eyes find the iris, her gaze lingering on it with grateful eyes. Grandma hasn’t been outside for months: she must stay in bed to rest. So she hasn’t seen a flower for a while. “Thank you, Ruby.” I can tell she says it with heavy sincerity. “You’re welcome, Grandma.” I start to unpack the goodies I bring for her monthly. It mostly consists of cookies, cinnamon rolls, apples, oranges, and chicken noodle soup. Hunter, my uncle, walks into the room. He’s been taking care of Grandma when I’m not here to keep her company. “Hello, Uncle.” “Good morning, Ruby.” “How has the hunting been going?” “Not quite as good as usual, I’m afraid to say.” “Oh, I’m sorry, I hope it gets better.” “Thanks, so do I.” Uncle has been out trying to catch the notorious animals stealing and eating our crops. He’s been unsuccessful so far, and if this continues, there won’t be as much to eat. Plus, we can’t just go to the market, it is many miles away, and with Grandma sick, that’s out of the question. “Well,” I say, realizing the time. I’ve been here for many hours, almost long enough to make my mother start to worry. “I should go, see you soon Grandma. Goodbye Uncle!” “Goodbye,” they both say in unison, as I start to head out the door of the little cottage. I head along the stone path until I reach a murmuring stream, water so clear it’s almost transparent. I feel his presence before I see him, a dark, hooded figure enveloped in a fur coat. Then I realize, it’s wolf fur. “Hello, little one. Do you happen to know where a nearby cottage is located?” The stranger asks, his shadow looming over me. I immediately know that he’s talking about Grandma’s cottage. It has to be. There are no neighbors or anyone else around here. I hesitate, unsure whether to tell him the directions or not. “But he seems nice enough,” I think to myself. I relent. I don’t know why I do. I wish I hadn’t. “Follow the stone path until you get to the dark brown oak tree, then take two lefts and one right. That will lead you there.” He looks at me, analyzing me as if wondering if he can trust me. I must have passed the test: a second later, he responds. “Thank you, little one.” He turns swiftly, silently, and strides toward the stone path - beginning the journey to Grandma’s cottage. Immediately after he leaves, I can feel something has changed. Something is wrong. What have I done? I turn back, looking towards the direction the man went. “Maybe it’s an old friend of Grandma’s,” I think to myself. “What other man would be looking for her?” I push it aside, convincing myself it’s true, finding relief in my self-told lies. As I continue home, almost half a mile away from Grandma’s, I still manage to hear the screams of his latest victim. I drop my empty basket, the one I had taken to her house filled with goodies. I’m frozen in place as it dawns upon me. “Grandma!” I realize too late. Death had come knocking at Grandma’s door.