My eyes fluttered open and were instantly blinded by the harsh fluorescent lights shining overhead. My gaze fell to my beloved family surrounding the dirty white bed I lay on.
I looked at each of their anxious faces: My son, Leelo and his darling wife Myora. My loving daughter Adeola and Lucas, her husband. My two pets, Flame_Tail_Knight, the Fire Scorchio and Scorch_Tongue_0101, the Shadow Scorchio. And the children. I mustn’t forget the children. They were the reason why I had called my family there that day. I had to make a choice. And it would not be an easy one to make.
But perhaps I should start at the beginning. My name is Brenda Aiden. I started writing this journal of events so that, if found by my heir, she will be able to use it to aid her in her struggles. My family name was Samson, or at least it was, until I met Gregory. I am 84 years old. I suffer from no disease, no incurable cancer, no poison sapping away at my life. I am merely dying of old age. My husband died long ago. Every day I have lived since then, I have lived in mourning. I have only held on so I could see the birth of my darling grandchildren, so I could pass on my “legacy”, as some might call it to a new generation. Ever since, I was a young girl, I have been gifted and cursed at the same time. I have saved thousands of lives. I met many famous people. I have also had the displeasure of being face to face with one of the most despicable people that has ever existed on Neopia, or any other planet. I hope that she is gone for good, but the queen says that we should still take caution. The time had come, she told me, to choose an heir. Someone else to bear my burden.
I looked at my three beloved grandchildren. Adeola’s daughter, Erica, age 11, stood in the corner. I still remember, a few years ago, playing with her. She was so full of life. I recall watching The Little MerAisha with her when she was 4. Now, I hardly talk to her. She just seems so . . . distant lately. She stood in the corner on this day, dressed in all pink and watching Lupe Moon on the television. I felt sort of guilty. I still wonder, as I write this, what I had done to upset her. Or, was she just . . . growing up too fast?
I glanced at my grandson, Gregory. Or G-Fizzle, as he was asking everyone to call him. He had been named after his grandfather. He was ten and was a big fan of . . . what’s the name of that rap artist? Oh, yes, 50 NP. On this particular day he was sitting on the floor next to my bed eating candy and admiring his “bling-bling” as he called it. I remember him turning to his parents and asking them if he could wait outside and saying how he was going to be late for the concert. It sort of made me feel sad that he didn’t want to be here.
Finally, there was Ko-Kira. She was only four, and hardly knew me, but she was still standing by my bedside looking concerned. I can clearly picture her saying, in such a sweet voice, “Are you okay?” Tears welled up in her ruby red eyes. I told her yes, I was fine. I knew the time had come. I looked at Flame and Scorch. We all knew that it was time.
I had to figure out whom to give my power to. I hated to bring this burden upon any of them. But I knew it must be done. I looked around the room again. And I made the choice. Erica wouldn’t take the burden very well. She hardly ever spoke to me and when she did, it was only to tell me about some boy or the newest styles. She would never forgive me if I were to, as she said to her mother, “wasted her life on stupid, pointless things when I could be on a date with [insert boy’s name here]”.
Gregory would never forgive me either, if I interfered with his concerts and such. Besides, I have a strong feeling that he would make bad choices and probably pick the wrong side. After all, we’re talking about the boy who went bungee jumping out of a second story window when he was eight, using nothing but dental floss as a bungee cord.
But Ko-Kira . . . She was so young and full of life. She truly cared about my health, and had always been such a sweet girl. I despised having to do this to her. But it was now her destiny.
I reached into the drawer in the dirty white table next to me and pulled out a small corked bottle.
“Ko-Kira, I want you to take this. Hold on to it wherever you go. It will help you someday in the future. And remember, I will always be here for you”
She smiled at me and hugged me goodbye. The two families then left the room.
That was two months ago. I am dying now; there is no doubt about that. I can only hope that Ko-Kira will grow up to be strong, independent and loving, just as she was when she was a child.
Take care my beloved granddaughter. I will be watching over you . . .