The Last Present


18 Eric Wiklund 10 December 2017

It was hard to open the Christmas present granddad had gotten for me. I sat with the heavy box on my lap whilst around me my family carried on opening their gifts. Christmas music was playing the background and there was a warm smell of food. It should have been a happy day but granddad had died a week ago and we’d had to rush the funeral or he wouldn’t have been buried till after the new year.

I didn’t want to open the last present I’d ever receive from him but it would be a waste not too. Slowly, un-sticking the badly wrapped package then opening the cardboard box, I peered inside. There was lots of tissue wrapped packets in there. I pulled one out, curiously unwrapping it. It was a tiny wooden table.

Frowning, I got all the other items and laid them out together. Granddad had built the fairy village I’d asked for as a child. Tears misted my eyes and I sit there and cried.

 

(Inspired by; https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/12/10/sunday-photo-fiction-december-10th-2017/ with thanks).

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