Dragonstone Tablet

A Story :: Inheritance and Dreams

My hand trembled as I clutched the phone, the lawyer's voice echoing in my ear. "Five hundred thousand dollars. Ms. Miller has bequeathed that entire sum to you, Karen."

Five hundred thousand dollars. The number swam in my head. Jeff, hunched over his laptop across the kitchen counter, looked up, his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Aunt Frida," I choked out, the reality of the situation hitting me. "She's... gone."

Jeff, ever the practical one, set his laptop down. "I'm so sorry, honey. But what did the lawyer say?"

"She left me... everything. Half a million dollars."

Jeff's eyes widened. "Wow. Karen, that's..."

"Life-changing?" I finished, a hesitant smile tugging at my lips. "Overwhelming? Terrifying?"

Jeff pulled me into a hug. "All of the above, I imagine. But hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's grieve Aunt Frida properly, then we can figure out what to be smart about this windfall, okay?"

The following weeks were a bittersweet symphony of grief and discovery. We said our final goodbyes to Aunt Frida, surrounded by tearful family and distant relatives who materialized like vultures after news of the inheritance. Sorting through her sprawling Victorian mansion was both cathartic and unsettling. It was a treasure trove of memories, each dusty knick-knack and faded photograph whispering stories of a life well-lived.

Tucked away in a forgotten drawer, nestled amongst moth-eaten scarves and tarnished brooches, I found a worn leather-bound journal. Its yellowed pages, crammed with Aunt Frida's spidery handwriting, held more than just memories. They were filled with dreams and aspirations, meticulously detailed plans that never quite materialized. One particular entry stood out, its faded ink outlining her lifelong dream of opening a wildlife sanctuary, a haven for orphaned animals who couldn't fend for themselves.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of sorting through the attic, I sank onto the couch, the leather-bound journal clutched in my lap. Jeff, ever the attentive husband, joined me, his brow furrowing as he noticed the weight on my mind. "Hey," he said softly, taking the journal from my hands. "What's got you thinking?"

"Jeff, remember how Aunt Frida always wanted to open an animal sanctuary?" I asked, the memory sparking a flicker of hope in my chest.

Jeff leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yeah, she talked about it a lot. But it always seemed like a pipe dream."

"What if it wasn't?" I countered, the spark igniting into a full-blown flame. "We could use some of the inheritance – a significant chunk, mind you – to make her dream a reality."

Jeff's gaze softened. "Karen, half a million is a lot, but it's not enough to run a sprawling sanctuary forever." There was a hint of pragmatism in his voice, a gentle reminder of the realities of the situation.

"No, but it's a start," I insisted, the conviction in my voice surprising even myself. "We could buy a smaller property, maybe start with a few rescued animals, just like Aunt Frida envisioned. We could call it 'Frida's Haven,'" I added, a tear glistening in my eye.

A slow smile spread across Jeff's face. "You know I'm always up for a challenge," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Besides, who am I to argue with a woman with a newfound inheritance, a dream-filled journal, and a fire in her belly?"

That night, we sat at the kitchen table, the map of the state spread out before us like a wrinkled canvas. Aunt Frida's journal lay open at our sides, its pages dog-eared and highlighted. We weren't rich socialites anymore, burdened with the weight of maintaining a life we never truly desired. We were dreamers, with a chance to honor a legacy, build a haven for the voiceless, and carve our own path in the world. And for the first time in a long time, the future felt not just secure, but brimming with possibility.

WORD COUNT: 654 Words
PROMPT: WHAT'S HER STORY?
13. Your rich aunt has just passed away, leaving you with an inheritance of $500,000. What do you do with it?

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