2nd Place Short Short Story
Tradition
Angel was looking at the rifle that sat about the fireplace, it was a family heirloom. She remembered when she had asked her father why he would clean the gun and then load it, before he returned it to its resting place.
His answer had always been the same. The gun had once saved her Great-Great-Great grandmother when it had come alive and shot an intruder that had broken into their home long ago. Since that time the family has kept the rifle ready in case it should once again be needed.
Angel looked back at the letter in her hand it stipulated that in order for her to keep the family homestead she must carry on with the family tradition. That the rifle would be cleaned monthly, a single shot loaded into it and the gun returned to its position above the fireplace.
She shivered, she had a young son and didn’t like the concept of a loaded gun in the house, especially after losing her husband to a mugger 2 years ago. She could transfer the homestead to a cousin that must continue the family tradition, but then what. She needed the money that was set aside to maintain the homestead as well as a place to live.
“Mom.” Came Alex’s cry as he tugged on her skirt.
She knelt down to look into his sad eyes. “Alex?”
“Why you cry?”
“I miss Grandpa.”
Alex started to cry, “I want Grandpa.”
She took him into her arms and held him close, he was just too young to comprehend that Grandpa wouldn’t be coming home from the hospital this time. That he had finally lost his battle with cancer.
Just then the door to their small home banged open as a large man burst through it. “Where’s the old man’s riches.” He demanded a pistol clutched tightly in one hand.
Before Angel could even think of what to do the rifle above the fireplace left its resting place and fired. Alex began to scream at the load noise, while Angel stared at the ghost of her Great-Great-Great grandfather’s translucent hand returning the rifle to its resting place.