There were some personal gifts; his gold retirement watch, a WW2 stopwatch and medals to disseminate among specified members of the immediate family, in Dad’s will.

“I wish the signed, hardback, first edition, Foundation Series to go to my grandson, Alec” he’d added in brackets “quite valuable”. My sister and I looked up, and at each other in astonishment, mouthing silently WHAT?

Neither of us had ever seen these books, and to be fair, would never have placed them in Dad’s possession – he was more of a Douglas Reeman reader; a Morecambe and Wise watcher; a James Last listener. Gobsmacked, we just couldn’t see him immersed in Asimov’s futuristic universe.

For the past decade, we had been avoiding the glory hole loft, the last time we looked, there was a half-restored Austin Healey motor cycle up there. Whilst we were pretty sure that Dad had sold that before he’d gotten too frail to pull down the loft ladder; the inevitable time had come for us to venture forth where no man hath been since.

(Six-Sentence Story)

Post inspired by Denise’s Six Sentence Story Challenge #131 Foundation. If you, too would like to join in please click on the link.

PS – I was challenged by fellow six sentence story writers to pen a series. This is part 4

• Part 3 – Boutique

• Part 2 – Field.

• Part 1 – Resistance!

PPS – Also managed to weave in Fandango’s FOWC – Disseminate. If you, too would like to join in please click on the link.

Published by TheHiddenEdge

I love words - they communicate so much or so little depending on how you use them. Come and explore my thoughts with me in this, my learning journal. View all posts by TheHiddenEdge