It is what it is, a drabble for The Queen of Sin. The promts were spoons (shock horror) GSR and less than 500 words (this is 499 so ha!), so this is what I came up with...enjoy...hopefully!
Spoons.
Pretty much the only thing they can be used for is eating, unless you're a very creative person and use them for something else, hitting people for instance.
I've had this spoon for nearly 52 years, it was given to me by my father, who was given it to him by his father, and his father before him and so on. It's nothing special to look at, but it's a family heirloom, one that was once close to selling when I was about 23, but something made me keep it, a little voice in m head told me 'No, don't sell it, keep it for just a little longer. You'll see.'
So I did. I kept that same spoon in a carved wooden box in my attic for another 8 years before I found it again, and once again I was going to sell it, but that same little voice told me 'No, just hold on to it for a few more years, it'll be worth it.' So again, I put it back in it's little wooden box and put it back in my attic once again.
A further 12 years later, I'm searching through my attic for something I needed to take with me to a job in San Francisco and lo and behold, I find that little wooden box with the spoon inside. I didn't have time to go and sell it in Vegas so I packed it in my briefcase and jetted off to San Fran. The next day, the end of the lecture, I'm packing away my things and the box falls out of my briefcase, falls down the stairs to the podium and stops when it hits someone's foot.
"Sorry." I mumble to the person without looking at them. I bend to pick the box up but the person gets there before me. I look up and see the most beautiful woman I have ever seen stood in front of me. I'm momentarily stunned and don't realise she's talking until she smiles, oh that smile, it could stop an army in it's tracks. When I come to my senses I see that she has the box open and she's looking at the spoon.
"You should keep this." She says. "Pass it on to your children." She closes the lid, hands me the box and walks away, still smiling. I somehow managed to tear my eyes away from her gorgeous face to see the name written on her name tag. The voice in my head echoes it. 'Sara Sidle'. All thought of selling the spoon has gone from my mind.
And now, 9 years after I met Sara Sidle, I find that same spoon, buried deep in my attic, only this time, the voice in my head knows better than to speak, it knows it doesn't need to, because this time I don't plan on selling it, and I have the best reason not to.
Jonathan Aaron Sidle-Grissom
Born: 7th June 2008
The End