(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

Two weeks ago

She sat, brown hair shining as the sun reflected on it. Miles watched her vivacious beauty as she sucked on her straw. The orange juice slowly going down in the glass. Entranced by her he knew that she could have any man, but she had chosen him. Tracing the lines on her face, Miles admired her as she watched the boats bobbing on the sea and the children playing on the beach.

They had visited this restaurant many times. It was their favourite, with its sea view and vibrant atmosphere.  Sarah was vivacious, full of life. Everywhere she went she lit up the room, everyone loved her. For Miles, she was the centre of his world. He knew that he was lucky to be with someone as special as her.

Present day

So, why had things changed so dramatically? Miles sat in the empty room. The crime scene investigators had gone. The pain in his chest would not diminish. He needed Sarah, why had someone taken her from him?

The white tape still laid round where her strangled body had been found. A reminder of the woman he had lost. Who despised her enough to do this? People had flocked to her sparkling personality. What had gone so wrong?

Stroking the arms of the warm chair, he gazed around the room. Was there someone she had upset? Someone she had wronged? He only knew vivacious happy Sarah. Focusing on the wooden dresser, Miles decided to start his own investigation. The police had said they would find her killer, but would they? So many crime books told otherwise and he hoped he was not a suspect.

Pushing himself up from the chair, he walked over to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, he found a pile of envelopes bound with an elastic band. Pulling them out, he stepped back to his chair and sat down. Miles felt like an intruder reading through her personal post but this needed to be done.

The poem

Opening the first envelope his heart started to race as he read,
To my darling Sarah,
If I can’t have you, then no one can,
Miles he is a lucky man.
If you don’t come to me,
Then your life will no longer be.
Vivacious Sarah, I need you here,
And if not, you will live in fear.
W.  X

W? Who is W? Poetry was supposed to be nice, not threatening. Sarah had chosen him over W. He opened another letter revealing another bad poem, again signed by W. Picking up Sarah’s phone he checked her phone contacts. There was no W. Phoning her best friend Ruth, Miles told her what he had found, and asked if she knew who he was.

Ruth

“Miles, the only W I know is Wendy, and she is married with two children. Though, Sarah has been acting strange for the last few months. Her conversation has always reverted back to you but she has made some odd comments.”

“Like what?”
“She spoke about weirdoes and respect. She adored you Miles and was pleased you never wrote to her.”
“Why would I write to her? I saw her nearly every day ”.
“Maybe, now we know about W. We can assume that Sarah had enough poetry in his creepy threats. Miles you never sent her poetry or threats. You told her how you felt in person, she loved that. You made her happy Miles”.
“Sarah made me happy too and now W has murdered her.”
“Have you given the poetry to the police?”.

W?

“Not yet, I was hoping to solve the mystery of W.”
“Seriously Miles, this is not some crime show, this is real life. You are not a detective and we don’t know W.”
“Did she mention any W at work.”?
“Do you really think a teacher is capable of this Miles?”
“He might have been a parent. Ruth how long have you known Sarah?”
“Only about two years.”

“Well, I’ve only known her eighteen months. Not long enough Ruth, she very quickly became my world and now he’s taken her. I’ve got her phone, do you know anyone other then her mum who has known her longer?”
“Hmm, is Georgie on there? They knew each other at university?”

Scrolling through the phonebook he found Georgina.
“Okay, Georgina must be her, I will try her, thank you Ruth “.
“Good luck, but please give those letters to the police. You don’t want to be done for withholding evidence.”
“Okay, I’ll phone her now.

Georgina

Feeling sick he listened to the ringing, willing Georgie to answer.
As she answered, he could detect a sadness in her voice.
“Hi, Georgina, my name is Miles.”
“Miles?”
“Sarah Brewster’s partner.”
“Oh hi, I’m so sorry, I haven’t seen Sarah in months and I’ve just been told what happened.”
“Yes, she was found strangled on her lounge floor.”
“Terrible news, Sarah was lovely, she had no enemies”.
“Do you happen to know a W?”

William

“At university there was William Thorn. He was crazy about her but she never reciprocated.”
“Any idea what happened to him?”
“After graduating he got a job at a school in York. I don’t know where he went after that.”
“Do you think he would be mad enough to strangle anyone?”
“Miles, really, are you conducting your own investigation. Leave it to the police.”

“I found threatening love poetry, signed by W. He might he her killer. I’m going to go to the station and hand them in.”
“Do, Miles, I hope you are right, Sarah did not deserve to be strangled. She was vivacious and truly beautiful. The world is a sadder place without her in it. I’m regretting not staying in touch with her, she was an amazing woman.

Visit to the police station

Hanging up on her, he bundled together the poetry.  Hoping that the police would follow up on his suspicions and find William.  Surely he was the likely killer.  Miles knew that he needed to leave it for the police, he had to be patient.

Huntsfield Gazette – three weeks later

The headline read, ‘Vivacious Sarah, pursued by evil teacher’.  Miles had been right.  The police thanked him for finding the poetry and working out who W was. He had helped to bring the case to a close.  They had found William Thorn teaching at a local school in Huntsfield.  He had been stalking and terrorizing her for months.

Soon after, it evolved that William had stalked other women as well.  Sarah was the first he had killed but others had been followed and threatened. Two others had come forward, relieved that he was now behind bars but sad that a woman had been killed.

Miles knew that nothing would bring Sarah back.  He now had to live with his memories and move on to life without her.  Glad for the short time that they had together but sad that it had ended so suddenly. In time he maybe would move on, but for now he preferred to sit quietly with his thoughts and just remember her.

Written for Blog Battle – Vivacious

For more see, A bucket of dreams and a rock star life