Warning: This work has been rated 16+.
To say that I was scared of death was an exaggeration. I did not fear it like other people, yet I had enough common sense to be wary enough of it. I had no need to give thought to how I would die, thinking that I would spend so much more time here before I moved on.
When my grandfather became gravely ill, I began to doubt my thoughts again. Perhaps death was a thing to be feared. It took people away from their loved ones and left the living with a sense of pain and misery. Death was not something to be taken lightly.
I was dancing when I received the phone call. It was to some pop song that was playing on the radio at the time. I remember the thudding bass and the fake, unoriginal voice of the lead singer that sounded like all the others that played on the radio. I remembered the way that the sun streamed in through my window, heating up my tiny room. I remember the cool breeze that wormed its way through that same window.
Most of all, I remembered the way that my eyes landed on the picture of me and my grandfather at the same time the phone rang. It had been taken three years previous. He had been sitting in his favorite armchair and I had been standing behind the chair, beaming at the camera. His sweet, gentle smile flashed through my mind as I picked up the phone.
“Hello?” I asked, turning down the music.
“Devi,” my father said, his voice strained. “You need to come over to your grandfather’s house immediately.”
All I could see in that moment was his gentle smile and my happy one, lost, frozen in time...
“He’s gotten a lot worse. The doctor doesn’t think he’ll last for much longer. We brought him home for good.”
Death is a curious thing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The thing that I always loved about my grandparent’s house was how close it was to mine. It was three blocks away, and situated on a nice suburban street that housed young couples and elderly folk. Perfectly kept lawns with small children playing on them flashed through my mind as I ran down the sidewalk, my feet slapping against the pavement in a mocking rhythm.
I remember as a child coming to their house and playing with the other children in the neighborhood. My grandmother had always been the one to supply us with lemonade and cookies when we were tired and wanting a snack. My grandfather would sit us in front of him and he would regale us with tales so vivid and extraordinary that we had no choice but to believe him. It had been my older brother and I. My favorite tale was always the one about my grandfather lost at sea with only a friendly mermaid to guide his way safely to shore. My brother’s was his safari adventure.
At the time, my grandfather had been invincible. He had been the fearless adventurer and explorer, and would always have a joke up his sleeve to cheer us up or a gentle smile to assuage our fears. Now, in the past couple months all I could see was a crippled old man. My heart slowly broke, remembering how he used to be, but as I walked through the familiar house and up the stairs, my heart nearly shattered.
He was lying in the bed, too weak to barely move, and he was hooked up to a machine that helped him to breathe. Without a word, I walked past the family doctor and my father and sat down in the chair by his bed. Picking up my grandfather’s hand, I stared at the aged, tired face of the man who had been so crucial to me growing up. First I had lost my grandmother and now I was losing my grandfather.
My father clasped a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll give you a few minutes,” he said softly before the two of them walked out of the room. I was grateful for that; grateful for the silence that was left in their wake, broken only by my grandfather’s ragged breaths.
“Grandpa,” I said quietly. “It’s me; Devi. Remember?” I tried to keep my breathing even, and fought back the tears that were rising to my eyes.
My grandfather’s magnificent blue eyes opened and turned to me. “Devi,” he croaked.
“How are you feeling?” It simply came out as a whisper. Reality was starting to set in. This was my grandfather, and he was dying. This was the last time I would ever speak to him. He was going to leave me forever.
Grandpa ignored my question and instead tried to squeeze my hand. “He’s been looking for me,” he breathed. “He’s been looking for me, but he won’t find me in time.”
My brow furrowed in confusion. “Who, Grandpa?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “You have to know what I did. I regret it so much... It doesn’t matter, now.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, slight panic starting to set in.
A deep sigh escaped him. “He was after me. I couldn’t get away... Instead, I let another be sacrificed for me. I killed someone to save my own life.” Tears fell down his wasted cheeks.
I sat, stunned. “Grampa.... You’re sick, you don’t know what you’re talking about...”
“No,” he said sharply, his eyes piercing mine. “I’m telling the truth. Promise me! Promise me that if he finds you...which he will, I have no doubt... Promise me you’ll fight him. Promise me you won’t be taken.”
“Grampa...” I swallowed thickly, noticing that his breaths were getting more ragged. Tears started running down my cheeks.
“Promise me!” His eyes held mine, despair shining out.
His last wish. He truly was dying. “I promise,” I choked out, shaking with sobs.
He let out a deep sigh, and leaned back, closing his eyes. “I love you, Devi.”
“I love you too,” I whispered as his breathing slowed.
Soon it was silent in the room. He had held onto life...just to see me one last time...
Death is a curious thing.
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125,013 Literary Works • 672,844 Reviews
Hey,
To be honest, this nearly made me cry. I love the emotion in this. This is a situation that everyone can relate to, it makes the reader feel sorry for the main character. I like your style of writing, its different from the writers i normally read but different in a good way. I love how you took a very normal situation and gave it a very mysterious feel, made the reader want to read more about it, to find out who this person who is after Devi's grandfather is.
I hope you keep writing this.
I love the way you write. The rhythmic beat of the page seems to fall perfectly with in your words. I am instantly attracted to your story line but i have several questions. Is Devi a boy or a girl? Also the i remembered part didn't flow very well, i became confused and lost until the next paragraph. I loved the way you described the song as well, ah music what a down turn you have taken. This story already pulled at my heart strings. You did a fantastic job at pulling in the reader and holding there emotions in your little writer hands. You waist no time in begging the story but maybe as a idea when devi is staring at the picture you can describe what he/she and there grandfather look like, it would fill up a few holes. Over all I really like this story and I hope you’ll be continuing on. I’m not one much for grammar but i hope this was helpful. Keep writing on!
To say that I was scared of death was an exaggeration. I did not fear it like other people, yet I had enough common sense to be wary enough of it. I had no need to give thought to how I would die, thinking that I would spend so much more time here before I moved on.
Love the intro, its definitely attracted me.
When my grandfather became gravely ill, I began to doubt my thoughts again. Perhaps death was a thing to be feared. It took people away from their loved ones and left the living with a sense of pain and misery. Death was not something to be taken lightly.
Aww sad :c
I was dancing when I received the phone call. It was to some pop song that was playing on the radio at the time. I remember the thudding bass and the fake, unoriginal voice of the lead singer that sounded like all the others that played on the radio. I remembered the way that the sun streamed in through my window, heating up my tiny room. I remember the cool breeze that wormed its way through that same window.
Nice, what song?
Most of all, I remembered the way that my eyes landed on the picture of me and my grandfather at the same time the phone rang. It had been taken three years previous. He had been sitting in his favorite armchair and I had been standing behind the chair, beaming at the camera. His sweet, gentle smile flashed through my mind as I picked up the phone.
I'm guessing R.I.P?
“Hello?” I asked, turning down the music.
“Devi,” my father said, his voice strained. “You need to come over to your grandfather’s house immediately.”
All I could see in that moment was his gentle smile and my happy one, lost, frozen in time...
“He’s gotten a lot worse. The doctor doesn’t think he’ll last for much longer. We brought him home for good.”
Death is a curious thing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Ouch, that would be depressing.
The thing that I always loved about my grandparent’s house was how close it was to mine. It was three blocks away, and situated on a nice suburban street that housed young couples and elderly folk. Perfectly kept lawns with small children playing on them flashed through my mind as I ran down the sidewalk, my feet slapping against the pavement in a mocking rhythm.
Long sentences, but still, nice.
I remember as a child coming to their house and playing with the other children in the neighborhood. My grandmother had always been the one to supply us with lemonade and cookies when we were tired and wanting a snack. My grandfather would sit us in front of him and he would regale us with tales so vivid and extraordinary that we had no choice but to believe him. It had been my older brother and I. My favorite tale was always the one about my grandfather lost at sea with only a friendly mermaid to guide his way safely to shore. My brother’s was his safari adventure.
Touching, very nice
At the time, my grandfather had been invincible. He had been the fearless adventurer and explorer, and would always have a joke up his sleeve to cheer us up or a gentle smile to assuage our fears. Now, in the past couple months all I could see was a crippled old man. My heart slowly broke, remembering how he used to be, but as I walked through the familiar house and up the stairs, my heart nearly shattered.
Ouch D:
He was lying in the bed, too weak to barely move, and he was hooked up to a machine that helped him to breathe. Without a word, I walked past the family doctor and my father and sat down in the chair by his bed. Picking up my grandfather’s hand, I stared at the aged, tired face of the man who had been so crucial to me growing up. First I had lost my grandmother and now I was losing my grandfather.
How did you lose your grandmother? Be more pecific, give some more details. Also, what do the surroundings look like? I forgot to mention this in the other paragraphs, I will only mention it here to remind you. But anyway, poor grandfather.
My father clasped a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll give you a few minutes,” he said softly before the two of them walked out of the room. I was grateful for that; grateful for the silence that was left in their wake, broken only by my grandfather’s ragged breaths.
Sad..
“Grandpa,” I said quietly. “It’s me; Devi. Remember?” I tried to keep my breathing even, and fought back the tears that were rising to my eyes.
Devi, such a nice name.
My grandfather’s magnificent blue eyes opened and turned to me. “Devi,” he croaked.
Blue eyes, pretty. He sounds like he is in pain
“How are you feeling?” It simply came out as a whisper. Reality was starting to set in. This was my grandfather, and he was dying. This was the last time I would ever speak to him. He was going to leave me forever.
Gosh, I'm getting emotional!
Grandpa ignored my question and instead tried to squeeze my hand. “He’s been looking for me,” he breathed. “He’s been looking for me, but he won’t find me in time.”
He's going crazy?
My brow furrowed in confusion. “Who, Grandpa?”
Right to the point, nice
“It doesn’t matter.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “You have to know what I did. I regret it so much... It doesn’t matter, now.”
Interesting..
“What are you talking about?” I asked, slight panic starting to set in.
Panic, I understand that
A deep sigh escaped him. “Hewas after me. I couldn’t get away... Instead, I let another be sacrificed for me. I killed someone to save my own life.” Tears fell down his wasted cheeks.
Wasted cheeks? I don't understand that
I sat, stunned. “Grampa.... You’re sick, you don’t know what you’re talking about...”
Nice, to the point
“No,” he said sharply, his eyes piercing mine. “I’m telling the truth. Promise me! Promise me that if he finds you...which he will, I have no doubt... Promise me you’ll fight him. Promise me you won’t be taken.”
How would he find you... O.o
“Grampa...” I swallowed thickly, noticing that his breaths were getting more ragged. Tears started running down my cheeks.
Yikes
“Promise me!” His eyes held mine, despair shining out.
Shining? Is that spelt correctly
His last wish. He truly was dying. “I promise,” I choked out, shaking with sobs.
Sad..
He let out a deep sigh, and leaned back, closing his eyes. “I love you, Devi.”
His last words
“I love you too,” I whispered as his breathing slowed.
Love is a powerful thing
Soon it was silent in the room. He had held onto life...just to see me one last time...
Sad..
Death is a curious thing.
It truly is
This review was styled to help, not offend you. Do explain the surroundings more, go into detail on the background of the main character. I don't see any misspellings. This is truly a great peice. Sorry for the short reveiw
Good luck , you will go far!
This could be a book.
Most I've got to say about it is in some spots you repeat the phrase "I remember" too much. I know you were doing it on purpose but still, it's kinda cliche'. Umm, also it could using some editing here and there. Grammar this Grammar that. You know how it is.
Other than that, I think the pace could be picked up a bit. It starts off pretty slow. It felt kinda hard to get through at first. Or maybe it's just not my kind of story. However, I will also say your story telling, in my opinion was some of the best I've seen so far.
Keep it up.