He died over the weekend, and when I heard the news, I was both embittered, and relieved. He suffered with cancer for many years, and he hid it from
mostly everyone. I didn't have a clue, save for the fact that a cousin told me at the funeral. He was rich, tailored to special treatment, and the
best memories I have of him was how he sodomized me when I was seven years old.
The funeral was lavish, floral displays galore, and as I walked up to his corpse I felt bile rising in my stomach. I held it back, bowed slightly at
his still form, and I walked away as there were others behind me to pay their respects.
My grandfather was a pervert.
He had money, and used it to hush up his activities, paying people in cash to look the other way.
I was glad when he died. Another miscreant removed from the earth.
That is, until I got a letter from him a week later.
Very brilliant, I thought, a message from the grave. I hesitated to open it. I thought about throwing it away.
I WANTED to throw it away. I couldn't do it, so a few days after the funeral, I opened it, still bitter and confused, wanting a sort of closure to
the wounds that never really healed.
I read. It was handwritten in my grandfather's handwriting, hard to read, a scrawly text that was clearly written by a shaky hand.
"Forgive me. I know you can't but in my foolish youth I transgressed against many. I am sending this same message to everyone I've caused harm to,
whether now or in the past, with hopes that someone, someday, may understand how absolute power corrupts a soul. I had that power during my life, and
my soul has left me. I can only reflect upon my mistakes, and I am now gone from you. I couldn't corrupt you with a payment in return, and from me,
I give you the same power that was my downfall."
In the bottom of the envelope was a key. It had a fob attached to it, and was emblazoned with the signature of a local bank, and a number underneath,
which clearly denoted a safety deposit box.
It took me a few days of mental anguish, but my curiosity won out, and I went there.
The deposit box opened with my key. Inside was a smartphone. It looked like a modern Android model.
I picked it up, and once in my hand, I realized what it was.
It was my grandfather's Time Travel device. It looked just like a smart phone. Clever.
I touched a few menus, found the last location he visited, and hit enter.
I was looking upon a younger version of myself, asleep in bed, breathing slightly, soundly sleeping.
I didn't have the heart to wake myself, as my grandfather had, so I hit the exit button, and reality faded back to reality, and I stood there in the
bank vault, staring at the smart phone in my hand, wondering exactly what it could do.
edit on 2/6/12 by Druid42 because: I to it. misspelling.