AAWC Entry #2: The Photograph

Here’s Entry #2!!  We were supposed to write something having to do with a “Photograph” in this round.  (Misty, I mentioned an eagle in the second to last paragraph.  It’s in red bold.)

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The Photograph

Beams of sunlight poured through the cathedral-styled windows of the attic.  The notes of a bird’s song drifted through them, and a summer breeze rustled the leaves of the mighty oaks that seemed to practically lean onto the spacious house.  I grunted, lowering a heavy box to the wooden floor, then straightening my back as I stood up.

“Whew!”   I sighed, wiping my brow with the back of my hand.  “These boxes sure are heavy!”

My grandmother laughed where she stood sweeping in the corner of the attic.  “Now you understand why I asked you to come help me clean out this place!  These old bones of mine would break under the weight of those boxes.”

I laughed along with her.  “What’s in these boxes anyways, Grandma?”

“Oh, just odds and ends mostly.  Clothes, records, books, letters, journals.  You can take a look, if you like.”  She continued to sweep at the dusty floor.

“Awesome!”  I exclaimed excitedly.  I sat down with my legs crossed on the hard floor; hastily opening the flaps of the box nearest to me.

The contents of the box were as my Grandmother had presumed.  This box was filled to the brim with yellowed books and letters, and I gently picked up the book that lay on top of the rest.  It had a red cover with gold binding; very intricate designs and swirls covered it.  It bore no title, so I guessed This must be one of her journals.  I opened it up; flipping the fragile pages and glancing at my Grandma’s childish scrawl from years ago.  It varied much from her now perfect, flowing cursive.  As I reached the middle, reading tidbits of my Grandmother’s life from when she was not even my age, a picture fell into my lap.  I picked it up slowly, eyeing my Grandmother as she continued to busy herself with the cleaning.  I couldn’t help but stare at the peculiar photograph.  An eagle, seemingly of fire, flew through the darkening sky.  In my mind, I could imagine it’s horrendous screech echoing through the towering gray mountains.  What was odd about this picture, is that it was, or was supposed to be, a photograph.  Not a picture from a story book.  I stood up, and holding up the photograph, I curiously asked my Grandma.  “What is this?”

She stopped frozen, and slowly a mysterious smile spread across her wrinkled face.  With twinkling eyes she replied.  “That, my Dear, is a very long story.  It all began when…”

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I may continue this eventually!:D

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