Least We Forget – Lawrence Bousquet
The day I had dreaded had finally come and I could not put it off any longer. It had been a month since my mother died and her being last surviving parent. The task of sorting out my parents possessions had come to me. This was the last thing I felt like doing but some how I mustered the will power to drive over for which would soon become the last time.
When I got there it felt so strange to need to put the key in the door rather than just opening it as mom always left it open. Even though we tried and tried to get her to change that. Explaining how times had changed, and you could no longer trust everyone to do the right thing. Sometimes there is just no getting through to people. And that’s how it was with our mom.
Opening the door, the house felt so quiet and strange with no dog coming to great me, and no voice calling out “Who’s there?” I placed my hat and keys on the bench at the door, hung up my coat and took off my shoes and went inside.
I had no idea where I was going to start and just started to wander the house in a melancholy haze, and found myself in the basement beside the old workbench. It was covered in many layers of dust as there had been no need for many years and no one with interest to use the tools it held.
Standing there, something caught my attention. It was an old leather bound journal with a brass clasp that locked it shut. I could not find a key and with my curiosity getting the better of me, I picked up an old screw driver and popped it open.
Blowing the dust off it I could see an inscription. To my beloved Beatrice. I wish one day to sit and read these pages to you and hope our children and grand children can make use of what they hold one day. It was dated January 1 1917.
On reading that and not looking forward to the work I had ahead of me, I grabbed a Coke out of the basement fridge. Went upstairs got my shoes on and hat and went outside to sit under the Gazebo to prepare for a good read.
As I stepped outside I notice the sky had changed to the most odd colour of blue I had never seen before. I could not even place a shade to call it. Although there was no cloud in the sky there was a great clap which almost made the ground beneath my feet shake.
I shook it off as my mind playing tricks with me and sat in the lounger. I opened the Coke, there was another loud clap. I took a sip of my Coke and opened the journal. There was one more clap in the sky, and poof I was gone.
When I came to I was no longer in my parents back yard. The sky was still that strange shade of blue but the surroundings were all wrong. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head but nothing changed the fact that I was no longer in my parents back yard.
I was instead in a wide open field, and for the moment that clap sound I had been hearing was gone. In the distance I could see a farm house. So I gathered myself and started walking. I needed to figure out where I was.
Unknown to me at that moment, I also needed to know when I was.
It would take some time for me to realize I had been transported back in time and place to WW1 and before the date in the inscription. January 1 1917.
(c) Copyright – Lawrence Bousquet Scribe – 2017-05-26
This weeks word prompts from Monna Ellithorpe – Author from http://monnaellithorpe-author.com/ were as follows;
1. Write about the color blue.
2. The inscription in an old book.
3. … And **poof** he was gone.
I read them a few times and not one of them spoke to me. That is until I had the idea of combining all three and then inspiration hit me like a tone of bricks. I think that this story could be turned into something much bigger but for now here is what happens, in my mind at least when you take these three word prompts and mash them up in one story. Lawrence Bousquet
Least We Forget