Hidden Jewels (Short Stories)

7) Her will

published: Saturday, September 5th 2020 4:28 am

writing prompt: Write a story that starts with someone writing their will — one they know people won't like.

Penny had been doing a lot of thinking that day and the days that began to pass. The pen never left her hand and her hand stayed on the paper in front of her as she tried to write again. Sixty-eight still felt too young to be writing a will. To announce where she wanted her assets and possessions to go to while still drawing breath was more difficult than she realized. In her heart she knew what she needed to say. She knew the shock that her words would have on  everyone once they heard them aloud. But what should she care if they had an issue? She would not be around to see it anyways so it might as well come out. The truth was that those children of hers would not see a penny from her and just thinking about that put  her at peace. The money would go to those who actually needed it. Not that her family would have noticed, but she had spent a good amount of her time looking up organizations in need that desperately needed the money in her possession. It put her at peace to be able to do this for them. Her children would be fine.

Only four showed up today, her daughter Dana being out of the country (too busy to say goodbye as she put it) and her other son Carson being in jail for armed robbery. The other four were successful in their own rights and by all means had no need to the fortune that she had.

Ever since getting the money her mother left to her it had changed their household for the worse. Sure it helped with their expenses and made life easier, but they changed. It was clear as day. Attitudes ran wild and turned sour to the point that none of them were recognizable. The house she lived in now was the one she grew up in and so was the money. By some miracle she did not grow up snobby like her parents, but her children weren't so lucky. She supposed one day they would get over her decision and go about their lives. The worst that they could do is not visit her grave or even bury her, but she had a plan for that too. They would be okay without her, that she knew for sure. This money was always hers to do with as she pleased, and it pleased her greatly to withhold it from her ungrateful children.

So she wrote for what felt like hours until everything she needed to say was inside of her will, though the noise coming from the cracked open window fueled her drive. She could hear them now, yelling and arguing none stop as they had been doing the last few days. Every time they did so it was always about the same thing, and she would grow even more agitated about the subject. It was clear from her doctor- well every doctor that she had seen in the last three years, that she was dying and soon. This was something that she had learned to live with and was slowly growing to be okay with, if only her children felt the same.On the contrary, they preferred to argue about it day and night. At first it started with them disagreeing about which doctor she would see and how many opinions they would hear on her condition. Then it was who would stay and watch her (she still had no idea why they were arguing about this as if she was a child) while the rest took care of their own children or went to work.

Now, as she craned her neck to hear outside where they decided was the best place to really go at each other with more nonsense, they heavily discussed her assets and what would happen to them after she was gone. They all wanted the house, her cars, her jewelry, then she smirked when her youngest son suggested to give away all of her clothes when she's gone because they wouldn't be worth much. She would be lying is she said that hearing this from the mouths of her babes did not hurt much, but hearing that comment had made her chuckle. It would not kill them to wait until she was gone and her body was cold before they began divvying out her possessions, but she guessed that was asking too much of her rotten children. They hadn't always been the way that they were, which is why the guilt tended to eat away at her in times like these.