Short Stories…Michael’s Story
Here is another short story by one of our contributor’s. Michael is a young lad. Michael is 13. Michael, this was a cute story. You did an awesome job! It had me smiling even with the sad beginning. I love the Baroness Von Somethingorother…:-)
Story by Michael Valencic
… As I tell you this story, think of something sad. Think of the saddest thing that’s happened to you. Ever. Well, keep that in mind as I tell you of the story of David Alexander Corneliusson, who was only 9 at the time, the sole survivor of a car crash between his family’s car and their Uncle and Aunt’s Car. His Uncle Max and Aunt Marissa survived, but of the other car, only poor David Alexander survived. He was then forced to live with his horrible Uncle and his vicious Aunt.
Life at his Aunt and Uncle’s house was like living at a prison for poor Dac (as his only friend, Aaron Michael Valencic, calls him). His window actually has bars on it, his door is locked, and they only give him food and water through a modified doggie door.At least it’s got a bathroom!
“At least Aunt Marissa is a somewhat decent cook,” he thought miserably, as he received his dinner.
And that’s how it stayed until he was thirteen years old.
Until something extraordinary happened: he got a letter. Now, a letter was a truly odd thing for him because the only mail he ever received was from me, and that wasn’t even mail, it’s email. (Dac had the old computer that was given to him after his Aunt and Uncle got a PC for her and a laptop for him.)
It was delivered to him with his midday meal (leftover pizza from Pizza Nut.) As he picked up the cardboard box, he saw a brown envelope, and he rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? He looked again. It was still there.
He blinked. The date was February 7th, 2010. He blinked again. The same. In the envelope was a letter and a small rock with hardened glue in a circle around the rim of the small black rock, which was peculiar. On the envelope, taped, was a small note from the postmater and it read:
“Sorry it was delayed but it took me a long time to find you.”
“A long time to find me,” he thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
He looked at the postmark on the envelope, which he had dropped to the floor. February, 1890. He checked today’s date again, just to be sure.
Then he read the letter, and it read:
Dear Dac, Sorry the letter was delayed, but I just couldn’t find another boy named Dac. My son was named Dac, you know. He died when he was two years old, so I wanted the next boy named Dac to have my heritage.
From, The Baroness Von Somethingorother
(The Baroness von Somethingorother)
He picked up the rock. He wondered why she would send this rock to him. He searched for her on Google. He found out that she was a geologist. She also had a very big rock collection. She was rumored to have left a single geode that had a clue inside it that will lead to her treasure of geodes and rocks.
“Wow!” he thought, with a ray of hope shining through the dark clouds of his current life, “A treasure hunt!”
Just then, he thought with a smile, “I’m getting out of here.”
He packed a suitcase. He put his knife, his toothbrush, some paper clips, a water bottle, his wallet (which contained $25.02 he got from his grandma for his birthday) and the geode pieces in a sandwich baggie. (There was a note inside the geode); it said:
“Search the mansion.”
When he searched for her on Google, he found the address of the old mansion, which, thankfully, was in this town.
“So,” he thought, “time to go.”
He picked the lock of the door with a paper clip. He went out the door with a very great amount of care, and into the night air.
He was out.
“Now,” he said to himself, “time to find that mansion.”
He followed the Google map directions, and by morning he was staring into the great big iron gates of the lime-green painted mansion.
“Weird,” he thought, “just weird. Of course, if you’re rich, you can paint your house any color you like.”
He climbed up the gate. Thank goodness, that there was a three foot wide opening with a bush concealing it.
As he walked inside, the thought to himself, “she really planned this.”
As he walked inside the mansion, he glanced around and then his eyes focused on one thing: a four foot wide rock, surrounded by piles of smaller rocks.
Those rocks were geodes.
He later opened “The Baroness’ Museum of Rocks,” which contained uncounted specimens of rocks and stones and geodes and pebbles and fossils and lots of other rocks as well. Any you can think of.
Well, you can guess the rest.
He lived mostly Happily Ever After.