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Me, Myself, and I.
Just what i feel like typing up i sometimes put things on where i need requests and such to keep that thing going. Such as my poetry and a story or 2.
Chapter 1 of my new story

“The Magic is alive.”
Those were the last 4 words that escaped his lips before his eyes went blank and his pulse and breathing stopped. My grandfather was the only person in my family left besides myself. He took care of me and I took care of him, we could handle almost everything as long as the other was there.
“Jessie I’m home!” He yelled each day at 5 PM. He worked for the government, but he could never tell me what he did. His life was almost secretive especially when it came to his work, and he always took the extra precautions with everything. He kept all of his work documents locked up in a room and he hid the key somewhere, I could never find it.
A tear streamed down my cheek as the memories of me and him flowed through my mind. I knew they would never happen again, not another camping trip, not another trip to school, nothing would ever be the same again.
I was 13 at the time, going into 8th grade the next year. Summer had just begun when I walked home to see the front door wide open. I reached for the pocket knife my grandfather gave me for protection, it was cold and sharp from the fact I never needed to use it. I walked in to see that he was there, holding a gun, a man laid on the floor. There was blood seeping onto the floor from his body. That was the first time I ever saw my grandfather in a new way. From that day on he acted stern and secretive, which just made me even more curious.
Whenever I was let out of school early I ran home knowing I had no time to waste. I unlocked the door and dropped my stuff by it. I automatically ran to the door that my grandfather never let me into and I tried to turn the knob, even though I knew it was going to be locked. I reached for the bobby-pins that I kept under the multiple hair ties that wrapped around my wrist. I tried to pick the lock, I twisted and jammed them but it never seemed to work. I even took a mini-class for lock-picking. That room would never be exposed to anyone besides my grandfather.
Slowly coming back from the memories of secrets and mysteries that my grandfather kept, my tears stopped. I looked at my grandfather. He looked so peaceful, as if any moment he would wake up from a dream smiling and asking what I wanted for dinner. Deep down I wished it was true, that he was just asleep and he would wake up any moment. But, I knew it wasn’t. I knew my grandfather, the man I loved and trusted with my life, lay dead on the floor.
I knew exactly what to do at this moment. I went through it many times. My mother, father, older sister, and grandmother all died right before my very eyes. Now I had to see the last person in my bloodline, the last person I could truly trust, die. I pulled out my cell phone wiping away the tear that was streaming down to the tip of my nose. I pressed the number 9 which immediately called my Emergency Contact. It wasn’t 911, it was the number my grandfather gave me to call if anything ever happened to him. The numbers “202-555-0319” came across my phone. I put the phone to my ear to hear a woman ask, “Hello how may I help you?”
I choked up for a moment, again she asked, “Hello? How may I help you?” My voice came back.
“Hello, I am Jessie Carmichael. The grand-daughter of Jerry Carmichael.”

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