Grandmother
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The darkness of the night was thick, the flame only illuminating the dirt covered square in the center of the frame. The forest had become completely silent. Crickets froze in limbo and the creatures of the shadows had stilled themselves. The only sound present was that of a young girl shuffling about the inside of the small structure that time had preserved in its decay. She placed her backpack on the dusty floor. Gently, she removed the old book she had found in her grandmother’s attic, an old leather strap between the marked pages. Her grandmother had passed away a week ago and the family had trekked into the backwoods of Tennessee to sift through her belongings. She had never really known her grandmother. It had always been a sore subject in her family. Occasionally, her father would mention growing up here, but his childhood had always been somewhat of a mystery, one he kept behind locked doors.
