My Grandfather died. I will miss him. [TJWC]

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.

Clever.

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.

reply to post by Druid42


Wow, good short story, tragic, yet intriguing. Somewhat of an Alice in Wonderland experience.

Im fairly convinced that smart phones have some sense of sentience, or that we/or other beings can interact with them. Kind of a category of psychokinesis if you look up "psychokinesis" on wiki. I and others have at least two dozens experiences, if not hundreds at this point, that would suggest so.

Anyway.

reply to post by xacto


It's a prelude to another story, where the grandson inherits the TT device, and he learns by using it all the wicked things his grandpa does because of his TT abilities. It's kinda yukky to see all the rotten stuff Grandpa did. Grandpa is the badguy, and the main character has to correct Grandpa's indiscretions.

I'm glad masqua gave me a whole month to write.

(Thank you masqua!)

reply to post by Druid42


A flag and star, Driud. You always have expressed yourself well.
-TAT