(Four years ago)  My Grandmother

Like most little girls I adored my Grandma. She was the one who always listened to me. Unlike others in my life she enjoyed my music. Her encouragement and support were everything to the musician that I had wanted to become. My dreams were everything as a child. It was her that would take my words, put them to music and then play the piano whilst I sang.

We take time for granted, rarely taking time to appreciate moments that we should cherish. My Grand-mother died about five years ago and today I received something that made me miss her all over again. It was today that my father gave me her precious heirloom, she had always worn it. He had kept it safe till the day that he felt he should carry out her wishes and pass it on to me. It wasn’t just any piece of jewellery, it came with a story, one that my Grandma had held on to, it had been in our family for generations. My father had now told me all about it as he passed me the small box.

The Family Folklore

Now holding it in my hand, I couldn’t help wondering about the powers it was supposed to have. He had told me about the family folklore, that stated that it was to be passed from Grand-mother to first born Grand-daughter along the family line. The belief was that one of us had been chosen for something, but we didn’t know what. The jewellery was supposed to guide the way to the right bearer. As far as we knew none of our ancestors had acquired greatness.

Sitting down I could feel its warmth. Surely this was just a piece of costume jewellery. I had never particularly liked my Grandmother’s brooch, but she had always worn it. It meant something to me as it was hers but did I really have to wear it?

Placing it back in its box, I put it with the rest of my jewellery, safely shut away. I’m thirty now, too young to wear a brooch, or so I thought.

I lived alone, happy in my one bed flat, too young to get stuck with a family. Relaxing in front of the tv with Netflix is a good evening for me. Now making the decision to go to bed I thought about the brooch again, and then dismissed it. The family folklore story was surely just that, just folklore.

The dream

Being approached by a tall man, I just kept walking. As I heard a gun, followed by screaming, I woke up. That was wierd, what had just happened? Deciding it was just a bad dream I rolled over.

“Emma, Emma love, we need to talk”
Not sure if I was asleep or awake or somewhere in between I could see my grandma looking down on me.
“What’s going on? How come are you here?”
“Emma, I needed to talk to you. I was not allowed to talk about it whilst I was alive, but you must wear the brooch.”
“Why?”

“What is the one thing you want Emma?”
“I want to be a musician, I want to write and sing.”
“That is exactly what I knew you would say. You are very talented darling, you just need your lucky break. Wear the Brooch.”

“Are you talking about the family folklore?”
“Yes, but you are the only one talented enough to do this.”
“But weren’t you? You were a musician too.”

The prophecy

“Yes, but whoever is destined for the folklore prophecy will also see future predictions. Predictions which will help them to do good. Doing good things and receiving good in return. I’ve been watching you sleep. You had a bad dream didn’t you, what happened?”
Feeling confused I said, “I saw a tall man, then heard a gun and then a scream. Are you saying that is about to happen?”
“Yes, very likely, can you describe where it was?”

“It was evening and we were on Crispin Avenue. I was walking home from work. Heck it was a Tuesday and its now Monday morning. How do I stop this? Is this really happening?”
“Yes, this is really happening. My Grand-mother appeared to me too but I didn’t have the power of foresight. From that we concluded that the folklore prophecy would pass to you. It’s important though that you wear the brooch even if under your jumper. I know you don’t like it but your dreams hinge on it.”

The tall man

This felt like it was not happening to me. My Grand-mother has visited me many times since. I have had many prophetic dreams and as the folklore stated, Yes, I am successful.

So, the tall man in my first dream, was he the shooter or was he shot?

Getting the police to believe that something was going to happen was not easy, but finally I managed to have the police waiting hidden in Crispin Avenue. I watched the tall man, as he walked towards us, I then heard a cry and a shout.

A young plain clothes police officer had noticed the shooter and had stopped him in his tracks, just as a young girl walked on past looking behind her. She must have been the girl who screamed.  The man was then stopped by the detectives who wanted to know who he was and why someone would want him shot.

The record producer

It was a day later that I had a call from the police station, Mr Phil Parsons was wanting to thank me personally and wanted me to phone him. Putting down the phone I staggered as I realised that he was Parsons, the record producer. I could suddenly feel the sweat pouring off me, this wasn’t real. Picking up one of my music magazines I started flicking through the pages. There in the middle was the rather handsome Phil Parsons. Why had anyone wanted to shoot him?

(Present day) Thoughts

It’s strange sometimes how life works out. I was destined to meet Phil Parsons as it was him that helped me learn how to project my voice, encouraged and praised my writing and helped to produce my work. However,  I know that my success is because of my Grandma, the brooch and the family folklore.

Written for Blog battle – Brooch

For more see, Castle hospital and an infectious disease – Blog battle – Castle