My Grandpa, the man who spun tales of buried treasure and promised me the millions. But when his time came, lawyer called me.
“Your grandfather wanted to divide evenly his money between your siblings. But he wanted you to know – he loved you the most, Robyn. That’s why you’ll get his apiary”. – he said.
That was the biggest letdown: a dusty, old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? This cruel joke of an inheritance was a slap in the face until the day I peered into the beehives.
It all started with a regular morning. Aunt Daphne peered over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, have you packed your bag yet?”
“I’m texting Chloe,” I groaned, hiding my phone.
“It’s almost bus time! Get ready!” Aunt Daphne said, stuffing books into my bag.
I saw the time. 7:58 A.M. “Ugh, fine,” I sighed, getting up from the bed.
She held out a shirt for me, ironed and ready. “This isn’t what your Grandpa hoped for you, you know. He believed you’d be strong, independent. And those beehives he left? They’re not going to tend to themselves.”
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I recalled the times with Grandpa, the honey, the bees. But now, my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush, Scott.
“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.
“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. He wanted you to take care of the apiary,” she insisted.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I’ve got better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”
I saw Aunt Daphne’s face fall and tears spring in her eyes. But the school bus honked right then, and I rushed out, ignoring her sad expression.
On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not the apiary I inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed at the responsibility.
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But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought it up again. She scolded me for neglecting chores and spending too much time on my phone.
“You’re grounded, young lady!” she declared suddenly, and it was then I finally looked up from my phone.
“Grounded? For what?” I protested.
“For shirking responsibility,” she replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.
“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I scoffed.
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“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted for you,” Aunt Daphne said, her voice strained with emotion.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I protested, “I’m scared of getting stung!”
“You’ll be wearing protective gear,” she countered. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”
Reluctantly, I headed to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I was both scared and curious. Donning heavy gloves, I opened the hive and began harvesting honey, my heart pounding.
Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I nearly gave up, but a surge of determination hit me. I had to finish this. I had to prove to Aunt Daphne that I wasn’t the reckless, irresponsible 14-year-old she thought I was.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weather-beaten plastic bag inside the hive containing a faded map with strange markings. It seemed like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.
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Excited, I tucked the map into my pocket and pedaled home. Leaving the half-filled jar of honey on the kitchen counter, I sneaked out and followed the map into the woods.
Navigating the familiar woods, I remembered Grandpa’s stories and laughed about his encounters.
As I stepped into a clearing that seemed to leap straight out of Grandpa’s stories, I couldn’t help but shiver. This was the exact place he’d talk about the legendary White Walker of the forest, making my imagination run wild as a kid.
And there it was, just like in his tales – the old gamekeeper’s house, looking forgotten by time with its chipped paint and sagging porch. “Grandpa used to sit us down here, munching on sandwiches and pie after collecting honey, and weave his incredible stories,” I thought, a bittersweet nostalgia washing over me.
Touching the ancient dwarf tree near the porch, I could almost hear Grandpa’s playful warning, “Watch out, kiddo. Let’s not disturb the grouchy little gnomes,” as if we were back in those carefree afternoons.
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I found the hidden old key and unlocked the cabin, stepping into a world that time had forgotten. The air was heavy with a musty smell, and specks of dust glimmered in the stray beams of sunlight.
There, catching my eye, was a beautifully carved metal box on a dusty table. Inside was a note from Grandpa, just for me:
“To my dear Robyn, inside this box is a special treasure for you, but it’s not to be opened until your journey’s true end. You’ll know when the time is right. All my love, Grandpa.”
I was dying to see what was inside, but Grandpa’s last instruction echoed in my head, “Only at the end of your journey.”
I couldn’t just ignore his last wish.
I continued my journey through the forest, but after a while, I felt like I was lost.
“This map is no good,” I realized, not being able to spot a way out of the woods. I didn’t know when I started crying.
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But then, I remembered something important. “Grandpa always said to stay calm,” I told myself. “I can’t give up.”
Then, I heard a sound like a small branch breaking far off, and it made me think of scary stories from when I was little. “Maybe Aunt Daphne was right to warn me,” I thought, looking around at the huge forest. But thinking of Grandpa’s advice made me brave enough to keep going, guiding me through the enveloping wilderness.
I took a big, nervous breath and tried to think clearly. Going back seemed like a good idea, but it would be hard to see clearly in the forest when it got dark. There was a bridge, the one Grandpa always talked about… that might help, I thought.
Wiping away a tear, I straightened my backpack. “Okay, Robyn,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s find that bridge.”
But that confidence didn’t last long. The sun was setting, making the woods menacing. Exhausted, I slumped under a tree, longing for Aunt Daphne’s cozy kitchen.
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My backpack offered no comfort, just reminders of my unpreparedness. Desperately searching for food, I found nothing but stale cracker crumbs. “Focus, Robyn. Find the bridge. Find water,” I urged myself, ignoring the hunger.
Then, remembering Grandpa’s advice again, I used heal-all leaves for my wounds and pushed on, driven by the sound of rushing water. But the river wasn’t the gentle stream I remembered; it was a dangerous, fast-moving torrent.
Ignoring the treacherous path, I scrambled down the rocky bank, driven by a desperate thirst. Reaching the water’s edge, I knelt, cupping my hands to scoop up the cool liquid. It tasted faintly metallic, but it was life-giving nectar at that moment.
As I rose, the precarious footing betrayed me. Slipping, I tumbled into the icy current, screaming for help. My backpack dragged me down. “Grandpa,” I whispered helplessly. Thinking of him, a sliver of clarity cut through the panic. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d taught me to fight, to be brave.
I decided to ditch the backpack but kept Grandpa’s metal box. Fighting the current, I struggled towards the shore, refusing to give up.
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My fingers brushed a solid log, a lifeline in the churning chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. Then, with a final shove, it deposited me, sputtering and bruised, onto the muddy bank.
I peeled off my soaking clothes and hung them up on a tree to dry. My eyes then fell on a metal box that might help me find my way back.
Grandpa had told me to wait until the end of my journey to open it, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Inside, I found no treasure, just a jar of honey and a photo of us together. It hit me then—this journey and the real treasure was about the value of hard work, just like Grandpa always said.
Tears welled up as I thought about how I’d ignored all the wisdom Grandpa had shared with me. I’d been chasing adventures, forgetting the important things he’d tried to teach me.
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Wiping my snotty nose, I told myself it was time to get moving, to make Grandpa proud. I started building a shelter from branches and leaves under a big oak tree. It was rough, but it was enough for the night.
The next morning, the bright sun woke me up. I pushed through the woods, holding onto that metal box like a lifeline, thinking about Grandpa.
Remembering the times we went fishing together warmed me up a bit. “Slow and steady,” I could almost hear him say. I even started humming one of his favorite tunes, feeling like he was right there with me.
When I saw a bridge in the distance, hope bubbled up inside me. With Grandpa’s lessons in my heart, I wasn’t alone. But then, the forest turned into a confusing maze, and I started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I stumbled into a clearing and collapsed, totally exhausted.
That’s when a dog found me, and I heard a chorus of muffled voices: “There she is!”
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Waking up in a hospital bed, I saw Aunt Daphne by my side. “I’m sorry,” I managed, overwhelmed by regret. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Daphne.”
“Hush, dear. You’re safe now,” she said softly.
“I messed up,” I cried out. “Grandpa was right about everything!”
Aunt Daphne held my hand and smiled. “He always loved you, sweetie. Even when you were mad at him, even when you didn’t get why. Remember how upset you were about not getting that smartwatch just weeks before he passed?”
“I never appreciated him or anything he did for me. He was always there for me. Grandpa was both my Mom and Dad after their passing. But I—”
“He knew you’d come around, sweetie. He always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”
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At that point, she reached into a bag beside her chair, pulling out a brightly colored box. My breath hitched as I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper: the same kind Grandpa always used for gifts.
“This is for you,” Aunt Daphne said gently, placing the box on my lap. The Xbox I wanted.
“Grandpa wanted you to have this,” Aunt Daphne continued. “He said when you learned the value of hard work and understood the importance of patience and perseverance, it would be yours.”
“I’ll be good, Aunt Daphne,” I promised. “I don’t need this anymore. I have learned my lesson.”
Aunt Daphne’s smile, this time brighter and filled with genuine joy, was all the reassurance I needed. Reaching to the bedside, I pulled out the small honey jar.
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“Would you like some honey, Aunt Daphne?” I asked, offering the sticky jar.
Taking the jar, she dipped a finger in and tasted the honey. “It’s sweet,” she said, her voice soft. “Just like you, Robyn. Just like you!”
Years have flown by since then. Now, at 28, a million miles from that grumbling teenager to a bee boss with two little terrors of my own (who thankfully love honey!), I learned a thing or two about responsibility.
Thanks, Grandpa! Thank you for everything you taught me! I whisper every single time I see the happiness on my kids’ faces when they enjoy honey.
That delicious honey is a reminder of the beautiful bond Grandpa and I shared.
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The former owner of my car called, desperately asking to recover something he had left under the seat — when I found it, I turned pale
When Samira buys a secondhand car at a dealership, she thinks it a victory because it was something she had done all by herself. But the next morning, the mysterious previous owner of the car calls her, claiming that he left something “alive” under the seat of the car. Will Samira meet him or uncover the secret package by herself?
When I first bought my car, it was supposed to be a small victory. I had left my corporate job to take time off to write my collection of short stories. So, I didn’t want to splurge my savings until something big came my way financially.
It was nothing fancy, just a used Toyota Corolla from the local dealership. The thrill of owning it was enough to make me overlook any thoughts about its previous owner. Whoever they were, they were in my past, and I was cruising straight into my future.
Or so I thought.
But then came that random phone call which changed everything.
It was early, around 7 a.m., and I was in the middle of making my morning coffee when my phone buzzed with an unknown number.
Normally, I’d ignore it, but something about early morning and late-night unknown calls made me answer. I didn’t know if someone needed me.
“Hello?” I said, yawning.
“Hi, is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man asked, anxiety in his voice.
“Yes, this is her. Who’s speaking?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.
He took a deep breath.
“Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I was the previous owner of the car, and I left something under the seat of the car when I gave it in yesterday morning. You picked it up yesterday, yes?”
“Yes,” I replied, confused about what he was getting at.
“Okay. Good,” he paused. “I need to get my hands on what I left behind. It’s really important. It’s urgent, really.”
What on earth could be so important that he would track me down like this? Was the dealership even allowed to give out personal information?
“What did you leave?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
“It’s something… alive,” he stammered. “Please, ma’am, I need to come and get it as soon as possible. I promise you, I’ll explain when I see you.”
I remained silent for a moment.
Alive? The word echoed loudly in my mind. Was this man serious? What alive thing could possibly be in the car? My mind raced between a baby to a dog to even a package of narcotics that he was brushing off as something alive.
But I knew that I would have noticed something like that.
“Do you want to meet me somewhere or give me your address?” he continued.
I should have probably said no to all of the above. But there was something about him and the panic in his voice that made me hesitate to say no.
“Okay,” I finally said, my voice more firm than I felt. “Come over to my neighborhood. There’s a park not too far away from where I live. I’ll meet you there. I’ll send the address to this number.”
“That’s perfect,” he said, sighing in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s contained for now.”
I hung up and stared at my phone.
“What are you doing, Samira?” I asked myself. “Are you really going to meet a random person?”
But, what would be alive under my seat? My thoughts darted to worse-case scenarios again. What if it was a dangerous animal?
I had no idea what to expect, and that’s what made me nervous.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing next to the Corolla in the cool morning air, waiting for the mysterious stranger to show up.
The neighborhood was still quiet, and I imagined everyone in their homes slowly waking up or making breakfast for their families.
Finally, a man pulled up in an old pickup truck, just as he had texted me to say he would. His eyes scanned the area nervously before landing on me.
“I’m Ben,” he said. “Thank you for letting me come.”
He was younger than I imagined, and probably in his late twenties like myself, with dark hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.
There was something endearing about his disheveled appearance, though I could tell he was genuinely worried.
Stop it, Samira, I told myself. This isn’t one of your romantic comedy stories. This isn’t a meet-cute.
“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So, what exactly did you leave under the seat?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he opened the driver’s door and dropped to his knees beside the car and reached under the seat. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, Ben pulled out a small, sealed box with tiny air holes punched into the top. My stomach did a flip as I imagined a tarantula inside the box.
“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” he said, standing up and holding the box.
“What’s in there?” I asked, almost amused.
“I have a pet gecko at home, and I feed it live insects every day. Yesterday, I stopped at the pet store to pick up some food, including mealworms and roaches, but I must have left the box under the seat when I was unloading the car.”
It took a moment for his words to register with me.
“You left a box of live insects under the seat?” I asked.
“Not by choice,” he replied sheepishly. “I was late to hand over the car as well. So the moment I unloaded everything else at home, I rushed over to the dealership to leave the car… for you.”
“You’re lucky that they didn’t escape,” I said.
Suddenly, a laugh bubbled up inside me before I could stop it, and once it started, it was hard to stop.
He looked at me, confused for a second, before a grin spread across his face.
“I know, it’s ridiculous, right?” he said. “I was so freaked out that I couldn’t even sleep. I kept imagining them crawling around your car, and I just…”
“My goodness,” I exclaimed. “That would have been quite the surprise.”
The thought of driving around with a box full of escaped bugs lurking somewhere under the seat was both horrifying and hilarious.
“I’m really sorry, Samira,” he said, his grin fading into something more genuine. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t know what else to do. The gecko, Samson, is actually my little brother’s pet. And as wacky as it is, that kid loves it.”
“No judgment here,” I replied. “I had a pet frog for a solid two weeks as a kid until my mother found it bouncing around my room.”
That was enough to set us both off again. We laughed until tears ran down our faces.
“Let me make it up to you,” he blurted out suddenly. “How about I take you out for a coffee? As an apology for the… bug thing?”
I stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden offer. I hadn’t expected any of this. But at the same time, I felt like I was in one of the romance stories that I wrote.
There was just something about the way he asked, something genuine and a little bit hopeful.
“I… um,” I started to say. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” he said, his face lighting up. “I know a place not too far away from here. Would you like to go now?”
I laughed at his enthusiasm.
“How about you take me to a car wash to wash away any bugs and my paranoia, and then we can grab a coffee?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“Actually, that’s the least I can do,” he said. “Come on.”
Ben put the box of insects in his truck and locked the door. I threw my keys at him, which he caught perfectly.
As we drove to the car wash, Ben told me all about his little brother, who was living with him.
“There’s a big age gap between us,” he said. “But there’s a really good school two roads away from me. So he’s enrolled there.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, watching his hands on the steering wheel. “I wish I had a younger sibling to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
When we got to the car wash, Ben ensured that we would take the full package.
“Give her a good wash, guys,” he said.
We went for coffee while the car was being attended to.
And I wondered what was going to happen next…
What would you have done?
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