My Grandad died a few weeks ago. My Grandad created a lot of precious stones, though I didn't see any value in them. I was only nine years old. We kept searching when my Grandma stopped. She came across an old green precious stone, though Grandma never saw anything precious in them.
"It's beautiful. Can I keep it?" I asked with a smile on my face.
"Why?" It's only a stone!" Grandma asked.
"Grandad always told me, that small things, matter," I explained.
Grandma smiled. She handed me the stone.
It now sits on a shelf where
small things matter.
About the Creator
Carol Ann Townend
I'm a writer who doesn't believe in sticking with one niche.
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More stories from Carol Ann Townend and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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By Millicent Chisom3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Hi Carol...You reminded me of my grandmom...good one!
I'll take some of those stones if your grandma throws them out. Emerald, Ruby, anything like that will work.