It was a harsh and cold winter in Wycoat Bay, a small and rather fairly little-known part of Canada, that not many people know about.
Wycoat Bay is a remote community-driven seafront.
It had it’s history goes back to Christopher Columbus’s time.
However, Wycoat Bay has since been nearly a forgotten place.
This was all but for the people who lived there.
There once was a young woman called Crystal Summers.
She was 25 years old, she had long blonde hair and blue eyes.
She had a son who was exactly like her,
He was called Kyle,
Named after her own father.
Not after the father who had so cruelly left her to bring up her son.
It had been a very hard time bringing up her son,
Because of this Crystal moved to her great, great grandmothers house for a while,
This wasbefore she was able to move into a house of her own in Wycoat Bay.
Crystal had stayed with her great, great grandmother Christine, until the day she had become quite old and was near to dying.
Crystal looked at her great, great grandmother with sad eyes as she sat down on her mother’s old bed.
“Do not look so sad my dear, there is more to life than death itself, and death is only but a transition from one life to the next life.”
Remarked Christine in a frail cracked age-old voice.
Crystal began to weep, it was strange that her great, great grandmother had such an unusual view on death.
“How can you say such things, Christine?”
“Because I truly know what comes after death.”
“Don’t be silly great, great grand Mama, no one knows that!”
“Oh, but I do sweetie, it does not matter that you believe me or not.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to sound disrespectful great, great grand Mama.”
“Oh it is OK honey, I do not mind.
Whilst I have the strength, I am going to make my will out to you
I fully intend to leave everything to you including my old silver mirror.”
“What? You can not leave that to me Christine!
That is such a very valuable piece and it belongs to you,
it has been in the family generations for years and years, centuries even.”
“I know and that is why I am giving the mirror to you, as you are family.”
“But…”
“Don’t argue with me honey, please.
Just accept the gift as it is meant to be, my dying gift to you.