Austin Perkinson and the Great Escape (Prologue)

Prologue: Bad News

It was mid December when I got the letter that said that my Grandfather had passed away. I was trying to think how this possibly could have happened; I mean it was completely out of the blue. I had been working with the doctors and the police to figure out what could possibly have gone wrong. Three months passed until I got another letter from the hospital.

Dear Mr. Perkinson, These past couple of months, we have done some investigating on your Grandfather’s death, and we have concluded that the death was from natural causes. After further tests we conclude that although we tried our hardest to save him; there was nothing more we could do for him. You have our sincerest condolences.

Sorry for your Loss,

Dr. James Wilmington.MD.

And

The nursing staff.

After reading the letter over several times, I began to reminisce about my hero; my grandfather. My grandfather meant the world to me; when I was younger he would come out and we would go get some pizza and then, after we got some pizza we would go and grab some ice cream. Every time he came out my father would let me do whatever I wanted. If I wanted to eat some cookies I could eat some cookies, if I wanted to play some games my father would let me play some games, or if I just wanted to relax and read I could simply pull up a bean bag chair, grab a book and read it. Whenever my grandfather was around, it seemed that my father was powerless against me. At times I think back too when I was a kid and remember those good old days when my father was still alive and my grandfather, father and I would always spend the weekends in the summer together. We would go exploring through the woods and see what we could find. We would always find extraordinary items. We would find things such as acorns, twigs, nuts, branches, animal scat that we would take home and examine, and all sorts of other interesting wilderness creatures.

My mother died giving birth to me, so growing up I never knew what it was like to have a Mother. Although she was gone, I did have a mother figure in my life. My Mother’s sister, my Aunt Martha treated and cared for me as though I was her son. My Aunt Martha never had a son of her own, even though she wanted one. So, seeing as my mother had passed away she figured she could help raise me.