Deadwood (The Chronicles of Mistar - Short Story)

···Delfie Caramon

Bastendin 18, 40386 BW···

The world spun, my feet only ips from the edge. The roar from Ice Pillar Falls was almost deafening, but I would soon get used to it. I always did, the sound more of a backdrop to the real chaos.

Night was coming, giving the falls a cool orange glow. Snow still stuck to the ground, but soon half of it would disappear and there might even be patches of emerald green, sparkling in the last rays of a forgotten sun.

Julia, my daughter, came up behind me. She grabbed me by the waist and hugged me gently. Already grown with her own kids, she came alone. It warmed my heart to see her, especially when she let go and turned around to see her. Her smile was as warm as her skin, the soft freckles on her skin pleasing to the eye like the green grass amongst bright, beautiful snow. No wonder the most popular man, Drako Payfil, fell for her hard.

Instead, Julia was like me. She wasn't attracted to the rich, good-looking, powerful men. My daughter gravitated towards the sweet, gentle men that aren't always as confident. Sure, the powerful men could be caring too but not like my Minka and her Ivor. Both of them were one of a million, kind men that care deeply for the things they love, not money.

Minka Wellon is my grandson's name. I didn't see him come up behind me. He certainly had followed his mother, wondering what was going on. He looked just like his grandfather, my husband, his facial features matching in complete comparison. Minka was a beautiful boy, definitely deserving his grandfather's name as his own, sweet in his own right, a gentleman at all costs.

"Gama?" he asked sweetly, his voice changed due to his teenage years. Yesterday, I could swear it was ten notes higher.

"Yes," I replied back as I watched him take my hands. They were soft, just as I grew him up to be.

"Don't... don't do this," he blurted. My dear grandson looked as if he was about to cry. He couldn't make eye contact with me and ended up staring into the bright blue eyes of his mother's, his own a dark navy blue.

I sighed. Even though I was old, quite old and near death, I said, "I have to, Minka. If I don't, then someone else will have to. If it wasn't me, it could be your grandfather, your mother, Uncle Del, or even Uncle Mink. Maybe... even you."

I said this calmly, letting it sink in him. Julia knew. She always did, the daughter who was always protective and outgoing, like me. Before I left the house, she begged me not to, wanting to take my place. I persisted and after about two hours of arguing, she gave in. My grandson heard most of it. The walls were thin.

There was nothing Julia could say that would change my mind. It was my time to go. My time to make my mark other than the death of others. I used to be grateful to be alive, grateful for the life I had given. But now, It feels like a burden. A burden I would carry to the grave and into the falls.