Grandma

I'm at a writing camp and we all came up with first lines and then switched with someone, the on I got was "Grandma was shy, a really shy woman." And I was hyper, so here's what came out of it.

Grandma was shy, a really shy woman.

Or, I thought she was, but then she kicked a very important looking man in a crisp suit in the place where it would hurt him, took his gun as he fell, and shot him straight through the head, all in an instant.

“Come on Diana, we have to run.” She says, stepping over the man's body. Grandma, run? I'd never seen her do anything more than a shuffle. But she bunches her long skirt in her hands and reveals well toned, muscular legs, and sprints faster than I'd ever seen a seventy year old woman go. I follow, avoiding the pool of blood seeping from the hole in the man's head.

We run down the street, and I catch up to her, I started cross country in seventh grade and I've loved it ever since. But I suppose that won't be happening anymore, not since a bomb detonated in the center of the school.

We don't know what happened, no one does, because no one who was inside the school made it out. I stop running and throw up in someone's garden. I'm home sick with a stomach bug.

I keep running, though everything in me begs me to stop, begs me to collapse and sleep right there on the sidewalk, or start laughing at the hilarity that my grandmother is running like an Olympian champion. Hysteria.

“Grandma, what's going on?” I say as we run, the sound of police sirens getting closer.

“No time, sweetheart, I'll tell you later.” The sirens get louder and Grandma pulls me up a tall maple tree, the leaves still in the process of turning gold. The policeman gets out of his car and looks around, standing under the tree.

“Grandma,” I whisper, “I'm going to throw up.”

“Diana, whatever you do, do not throw up.”

But I do, and it alerts the officer, throw up doesn't generally rain from the sky.

“I didn't want to do this...” Grandma grits her teeth and suddenly a knife is dropped into the officer's chest.

“What. The. Crap.” I say.

“Now, now, no language.” Grandma chides while she jumps from the tree, landing on her feet.

“I can say worse! I toned it down for you!” I yell, running after her as she takes off again.

She doesn't say anything, and she turns onto a path in the woods. Soon she turns off the path and we slow down to a walk.

“Grandma, please explain.” I beg her.

She sighs a long sigh, a sigh I would have naturally pinned to my shy Grandmother, not the kick-butt one who just killed two grown men without batting an eyelash. “The first thing you need to know is I am an assassin, and yes, I really am seventy. The second thing you need to know is that I am genetically enhanced, and so are you, and so are the men I killed.” She pauses, letting this sink in. I don't intend to respond, I don't think I can anyway.

“The third: the man in the suit was working for the 'bad guys'” She does air quotes around bad guys, “The fourth: that man was your father, and my son.”

My mouth almost drops open, but I think if I let it do that, I'll throw up again, maybe this time not from the sickness. I never new my father, I always assumed he was a druggie who skipped town when he knocked up my mom, who then also skipped town once I was born, leaving me with my dad's mother, who loved me like they didn't.

“How bad.” I manage to croak out, my throat raw from the stomach acid.

“He came to kill you, Diana, that's how bad.”

I sit down on a fallen tree, taking deep shuddering breaths. I will not cry, I will not cry in front of my grandmother who is so strong.

“I need the whole story.” I say after a minute. Grandma launches into the tale of our genetic enhancement, how she ages on the outside, but has the body and capability of a twenty five year old, about how I'll be the same, but about how my father was immortal. Immortal and evil, not a good combination. He was immortal in the sense that he didn't age, but could still be killed. He wanted to be the only one, the only special one, and, quite cliché like, he wanted to rule the world.

Great, I'm the daughter of a psycho path.

We keep walking and we reach a little cottage, just smack dab in the middle of the woods, but it looks fully functional.

“So what do we do?” I ask, it sounds like dear ole Dad had a few followers he planned to blindside, for they're all immortal as well.

“Now,” Grandma grins, a grin I think I will learn to dread, “now we plan.”

Author's Note

XD reviews please!

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a writer. Always create new story and thoughts. I enjoyed this story. I like the interesting tale and the grandmother. A lot of mystery in this story. A wide open ending for more story. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[♪The Girl Next Do..]

Lolololol! Definitely write a part 2!

[Abbie]

make this a book. NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Owlgirl]

Wow! That was awesome! Great job!

[Odayin]

You are Quite the twisted person...but then again, most of us are. I liked all the action in it and how things kept coming one after another without any warning. The only thing I wished was that you had included her age, like when you included that she was home sick from school. I just assumed it was high school as i bet a lot of people did.
All in all though this was nicely written, then again, it was quite expected from you. Should be interesting to read the others

[Celestial Witch Child]

I like your ideas, I just feel that you're trying too hard.

[Sophie]

How do you mean?