The Meek Inherit
by Aleah Sato
Kim and Jennifer continued to wait. They had spent the night waiting. Kim was patient; Jennifer, the youngest, was always anxious. This was just like Grandmother to leave them out here, Jennifer thought. She rifled through her knapsack for a brownie, ignoring Kim's gaze. Kim was a lot like Grandmother with those choking black eyes and that gaze.
"Kim…do you suppose Grandmother is leaving us out here to test us somehow?"
Kim sat there for a moment, still transfixed on her thoughts, and then replied.
From the horizon, a figure formed. Crickets and other nightlife cleared a path where the night had evaporated and Grandmother stood before them. Looking at Jennifer and Kim, she turned her head to see a white-tailed deer moving out of the wooded lot and heading up to Stony Creek.
"It’s about time! We nearly froze last night," shouted Jennifer.
"Be quiet, Jennifer," Kim said with seriousness. Her voice matched her gaze going back to Grandmother, who, after surveying her surroundings, finally spoke.
"I'm going to show you something you’re both old enough to see now. When I die, you must take care of this…”
Without saying anything more, Grandmother began digging her fingers into the ground, stopping every now and then to catch her breath and check on the girls who were silent. The only noise between the sounds of crippled fingers scraping dirt was the drops of water sliding off of leaves, sliding to the earth.
[Aleah Sato is a freelance writer and co-owner of Ricksticks Inc, a visual communications firm in Toronto. She is the author of the recently released Badlands, a collection of poems exploring the secrets women keep. Her work has appeared in Nthposition, Women Writers, Wicked Alice, Blue Fifth Review and Eclectica. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or through her blog, Jane Crow Journal.]