Imagine for a moment that it's your tenth birthday. You're just a child with naught a care in the world. The only concern you may have is whether or not your parents got you that toy rocket ship you've had your eye on for months. The case was not true for Jacob Grimm. His father had been acting strangely all day. Since sun up, Philipp hadn't let any member of his family out of his sight. He'd kissed his wife countless times and hugged his boys more frequently and held them longer than usual. At one point Will was wrapped so tightly in a bear hug, that he glanced helplessly at his older brother. Jacob shrugged his shoulders and smiled, but inside he was worried. Something didn't feel right.
That evening, Dorothea made a shepherd's pie for dinner and an apple pie for dessert. It was Jacob's request. He loved pie but never had much of an appetite for cake.
"But you're supposed to have cake. It's your birthday." Six-year old Will insisted.
"You're not 'supposed' to." Jacob argued.
"Sure you are. It's tradition!"
"Well, it's a dumb tradition. I like pie."
Will made a face. "Birthday cake. There's no such thing as a birthday pie."
Jacob rolled his eyes.
"Now boys," Dorothea began but stopped when her husband held his hand up. He shook his head and smiled as if to say, let them fight. One day we'll miss this.
After dinner Jacob received his gifts. From Will, an amulet that looked like a man with bull horns. "Where did you get this, Will?"
William grinned. "I found it. You like it?"
"Love it!"
From his mom he received a silver ring that had once belonged to her father. "It might be a bit big now," she laughed as her son eyed the significant gap between the ring and his finger, "but you'll grow into it." She planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Well, I suppose it's my turn then," Philipp grinned. He handed Jacob a package wrapped in brown paper. Jacob quickly shed the paper and stared in awe at the leather-back tome.
"Ah! I almost forgot." Philipp then handed his son a feathered quill. "You'll need to fill those pages."
Jacob's eyes flew with wild excitement between the journal and quill. Then a realization occurred to him and he hung his head.
Philipp crouched down to his son's level. "What's the matter?"
"What am I going to write?" Jacob said with a sigh.
"Whatever you want. That's the beauty of a journal. You can fill it with your thoughts. Tell stories. Dream and conceive. Their are no limitations, Jacob. You have the power to create life through words."
Jacob's eyes grew so wide they might have burst from his head. Then he threw his arms around his father. "I love you, dad. Thanks."
Philipp shed a tear as he held his eldest son for the last time.
"Mom! Dad!" Jacob struggled to break free from the arms that held him.
"Calm yourself, boy!" The man scolded. His voice sounded familiar but Jacob couldn't place it. Didn't care to. He just wanted to run to his parents.
The raging fire reflected in his eyes as he stared in helpless horror, watching his home burn to the ground. And it was so loud. The crackling from the blazing building, the villagers working to put out the fiery demon before it spread, and the screaming in Jacob's head that lamented the loss of his parents.
Then a sound pierced through the noise. "Jake!" A piercing cry that immediately snatched Jacob from his frenzy. Wilhelm. Where was he? Jacob burst from the arms of the neighbor who held him and ran toward the sound. A young woman was trying to calm a frantic Will, whose hair was matted with sweat, his face slick with tears. Jacob shoved the girl forcibly away and gripped his brother tightly.
"It's okay, Will. Everything will be okay."
Will shuddered and wiped his running nose on Jacob's shirt. His tears did not subside, but his demeanor calmed considerably.
Jacob buried his face in his brother's hair and squeezed his eyes shut tight, praying that when he reopened them, he'd be safe in bed.
But you and I both know that life seldom works that way. Jacob and Wilhelm Grim were indeed alone, and it would be years before they would find out why.
The man cracked his knuckles and neck. He needed to take a break. His legs felt stiffer. A walk might help. Besides, it might be nice to check out the subjects of my book in person. Emma and the boy too. He stood up, stretched, and downed the last of his whiskey. Then he grabbed his motorcycle helmet and limped out of the motel room. Only after checking the lock three times, was he satisfied his belongings would be safe during his excursion.
To Be Continued...
A/N: New Chapter! *dances* You guys have been great with the follows, favorites, and reviews, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.