The Willikins Diary

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I’ve always been a normal guy. Okay, kind of a normal nerd. I like to watch Godzilla movies and all of the Star Wars franchise, and I really dig computers. I had a job in the mailroom at the corporate offices of a really large insurance firm. Why do they even have a mailroom? Don’t they know about e-mail?

Anyway. I lived in a rather run-down apartment (Dad used to joke that if you rolled a bowling ball through my apartment, you wouldn’t know which room it would end up in). It’s all I could afford, okay? This is what an Associate’s degree from our community college can get you. Oh, and a 1989 Dodge Caravan. My co-workers called it The Chick Mobile. I don’t know why, the only girl who’s ever been in it was inflatable.

Okay, I’ve never exactly attracted girls. A 27 year old, 5’6”, 127 lb. redhead with male pattern baldness, freckles and a pronounced Adam’s apple isn’t what girls are really looking for. Oh yeah, I know, real stud material. I don’t drink or use drugs, I go to a Baptist Church on Wednesday night and Sunday morning, and I play the accordion (Uncle Pat had his own polka band, and Mama just loved it!). I’m a little boring, and very cheap. I’d wake, work and sleep. Repeat.

I came home, and there was this BIG yellow envelope in my mail. Some legal paperwork from a lawyer back in the little town I grew up in. Dammit, I returned that book! In third grade!

I flopped down on the lawn chair in my living room, and opened the envelope. Greetings, yada yada, Grandpa Walters, sister . . . I inherited the estate of my Grandfather’s little sister! Cool! As I recall, Grandpa Walter’s family was loaded! Well, that’s what Grandma used to tell me. I never got to meet my Grandpa. I know our family wasn’t wealthy! There was some argument about Grandpa’s clothing choices, I dunno. I knew I had to pack! I had a meeting with the lawyer on Monday!

I packed what little I’d need, left a message at work that I had a family emergency, then drove back to Jasper Falls. I got there late Sunday afternoon, stopped by Mom and Dad’s graves, and then went to Mr. Evan’s motel. I decided to take a cruise around town in the early evening, just visiting old haunts. It doesn’t take long, Jasper Falls isn’t that big. It started to rain, right around the time I got past Haggy Hortense’s place. The old lady used to yell at us kids for running on her sidewalk, or yelling too loudly. She had the only house on the block we didn’t stop at on Halloween. Still, I used to take her some Christmas cookies, every year. I thought maybe if I did that, she wouldn’t yell so much at me. She still did, but I kept taking the cookies. Mama said that it was best to be nice, even if the other person was mean.

The rain helped me sleep, and I woke well rested and walked over to Lang’s Kitchen Kupboard, the only café in town. Breakfast was decent, and the coffee was good. I headed over to Ames & Sons, Attorneys at Law. Their name was as big as their building. I pulled out my umbrella and walked in. Folding my umbrella down again, I told the receptionist I was David Walters. She had me wait in the lobby until Jack Ames came out and shook my hand.

“I’m sorry; it’s taken us a while to find you. You just don’t have many relations, but we had to trace all of them to find you. Miss Willikins did leave a diary, but she only mentioned your first name, David. From what she had told us, you didn’t know about your great-aunt.”

“No, your letter was the first I had heard of her.” I told him. “I wasn’t aware I had any living relatives, after the accident last fall. It would have been nice to have met her.”

“She left a fairly nice home and a considerable bank balance to you. I have to tell you, she had a bit of a, let’s say unusual reputation. Your great-aunt was a bit eccentric.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, she was-oh, how can I put this? Well, the local folks kind of considered her a witch, Mr. Walters.”

“Oh, come on!” I laughed.”You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Well, there many stories of strange things happening at her house. Most of the children in the area won’t even approach the house.”

“I grew up here, I don’t know of any place like that, except maybe . . . you have to be kidding me? Haggy Hortense was my great-aunt?”

“You knew her?” He asked.

“Well, yeah! She lived down the street, hated kids being loud, running on her sidewalk . . . I took her cookies at Christmas. No one ever told me we were related!”

“She was your grandfather’s younger sister. They lost contact after he left home. Apparently your grandfather was considered something of a black sheep.”

“Yeah, Grandma used to tell us stories about how he and my great-grandfather had a huge disagreement over what I’ve always heard was trivial stuff. Great-grandfather kicked Grandpa out of the family. My Grandfather died in the Korean War, and no one ever told me much more than that. I knew that Great-grandfather was supposed to have a great deal of money, but that’s about all I knew.

“Oh, I would say it was true. Miss Willikins’ bank balance is considerable, Mister Walters, not to mention the house, which is in immaculate condition. Miss Willikins was very frugal.”

Definitely a family trait, I guess.

“So, what do we need to do from here?”

He led me through all the legal details, and gave me the keys to the house, and the diary, along with an envelope full of papers. Her estate taxes had been settled, and the legal fees were all taken care of. I was now a multi millionaire!

I went down to the house. It wasn’t a bad house, perhaps a little dark. I was not a big fan of the brown paint with yellow trim, but a paint job would take care of that. Mr. Ames was right; it seemed to be in very nice condition.

I went in, and it was just as I remembered. The inside smelled of Dove Soap, just like my own Grandmother’s house. I have to admit, it made me feel relaxed and at home. Everything was nice and clean, although I was not all that impressed with the wallpaper, white with a pattern of tiny flowers. I guess it was all right, very much of a “country” feel. The weather had improved so I went and sat on the porch swing on the front porch for a while. Great-Aunt Hortense, I really wish I had known we were related. I thought, with a quick tear. I’ve lost the chance to get to know you.

That’s when I thought about the diary. I went back into the house and found it, then relaxed on the front porch and began to read it. There was a note, tucked in the front of it.

My dear great-nephew;

I’m so sorry I never told you who I was. Your Grand-Father was someone whom I loved very much. I was so angry at father. He stole from me something more than he ever knew. He stole my joy.

Andrew was not really my brother, but my sister, Angela. Please, I hope and pray that you will read my diary. You will read of some of the wonderful times we shared. I could tell Angela everything, and I loved her with all of my heart. She truly hated the fact that the Lord had placed her in the body she had. I was the one who suggested that she dress in some of our late mother’s clothing. She was radiant, and so happy! I well remember those days we shared.

We only had a couple of years before Father happened to catch us at our game. He was furious! He ordered Andrew out of the house, and forbade me from even speaking of him. I will admit, I became a cold, bitter child. I don’t think I ever recovered that spark, of happiness. I have lived the rest of my life cheated out of the love of my sister.

When I left my father’s house, I tried to seek out Angela, only to learn that he had married, had a son, then had been killed in that damn Korean Conflict. I had so hoped and prayed to find her, only to learn that they never even found his body. In a way, I hope that it was totally destroyed, as she had hated it so.

Please, David, forgive me for my anger. Every time I saw you, it reminded me of the fact that my father had forced my sister to have to live as a man. I really do hope he loved your Grandmother, although a part of me will always believe that it was very difficult for him. I know that my father killed all the love that I had in me. I have been an angry, bitter woman for so long! I only hope my Angela will be there after I’m gone, waiting for me.

Oh, and one last thing I have never done.

Thank you for the cookies.

Your Great-Aunt Hortense

I think I cried for hours. I’m not even sure who I cried for, whether it was for Hortense, Andrew, Angela or possibly me. I had to wonder if my Grandpa had intentionally done something that resulted in his death. Perhaps he just couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps he was just a soldier, killed in action. I’ll never know, but now, I’ll always wonder.

I have read the Diary, several times. Angela taught her little sister how to dance, and sing, and run through the meadow. They would sit by the creek and cool their feet in their pretty dresses, while Angela told Hortense all kinds of stories. Angela even taught her to read, and to do her “sums”. I could tell they were truly happy.

I read of that horrible day that their father made Andrew leave, and the tears that Hortense shed could still be seen, staining the pages of the diary. Every time I read it, I seem to add a few tears. The loneliness she went through is obvious as you read through the later pages. She became hard and bitter. Little things bothered her, but the worst was the laughter of children. She was so jealous! I wish I had tried harder to break through her shell.

I resolved that the sadness would end here. I researched local groups that dealt with cross-dressing, or transvestites. I found very few in the area around Jasper Falls, but as I widened my search, a world opened for me. I had to deal with a great many porn sites, but I did find some groups that were serious about helping people like my Grandpa. I have become a serious supporter of these groups.

In working and meeting with them, I met my wife, a straight woman who volunteered with an LGBT group. We dated for a while, without her knowing about my financial “advantages”. She was very surprised, and at first maybe a little angry with my deception. I apologized, and once she calmed down, she accepted my proposal. Yes, she has read the diary. It only served to strengthen our resolve.

Intolerance is wrong, and the persecution of people for their personal issues is wrong. I will do my best to fight this, for my great-aunt, and for her sister.

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Comments

The Willikins Diary

A bitter sweet story with hope in the end.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Tragedy Over Come

RAMI

The tragedy of Andrew/Angela and Hortense bitter life, have to some extent been overcome by David's love and generosity. It is too bad that her bitterness prevented her from knowing her nephew.

I was expecting, that at the end of the story, it would be revealed that David was somewhere within the TS/TG/CD community. I liked the fact that the story did not take that turn. We had a normal heterosexual man who used his largess to help others.

RAMI

RAMI

Interesting Misdirection...

Your description of the narrator at the beginning, that is. And then the disbelief in witches and magic, which turns out to be totally justified.

Nice work.

Eric

Very nice-

job of playing with our expectations! :) Not only did you keep your readers guessing, but you brought to a good conclusion without it seeming forced. As for the story itself, it's about a good man who ends up doing the right thing. Well done!

hugs
Grover

The Willikins Diary

Interesting story about David Walters, a 'normal nerd', I agree,
there are enough of them running around so we can classify them
into groups. But the inflatable girl is my favorite. Something every
young man should have. A doll like that would have come in handy on
my real first date. I remember that day. The day before, I went out
on a practice date. I drove by her house, went to the movie we were
going to see, and then I stopped at a drive in to have something to
eat. An inflatable doll would have made that experince more meaningful.
I don't believe, if I had one, the people in the car next to mine would
have been laughing at me. Instead, my arm was suspended around an
imiginary girl whom I was talking to.

Excellent story, in brought back memories of my ill spent youth when
I use to go on practice dates. An inflatable girl would have come
in handy . Thank You

Kaptin Nibbles

A Very Positive Story

littlerocksilver's picture

Wren,

A wonderful short tale with such a positive outlook. I'll bet that the money will do a lot of good. Might be a story there.

Girl.jpg
Portia

Portia

Hmmm...

I hadn't thought of that! Ya never know...

Wren

He could be ...

Jezzi Stewart's picture

... the next John Beresford Tipton, Jr. ... or maybe, after awhile, Joan Beresford Tipton, Jr. :-)

BE a lady!

Showing your age - A million dollars is a lot of $

RAMI

Dear Jezzi:

I think you are showing your age. Since I watched also as a kid, I am showing mine as well.

The show ran from 1955 to June 1960. If he is John Beresford Tipton, who is his Mark Anthony. The most anyone ever saw of Mr. Tipton was his right arm either signing a check or handing it over to Mark Anthony, his Exeutive Secretary, to give to some needy individual.

Using such a premise, this could become a universe unto itself. Each story could be based on finding a poor unfortunate deserving TG/TS whose story is so compelling that they are given a check for a million dollars to help them with their lives.

Just a thought, a million dollars in 1960 was REAL MONEY. I wonder how much that is worth today.

RAMI

RAMI

Rami - $7,633,918.92

Here's a site to figure inflationary amounts.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

is that it?

Is the story over?

It feels like an introduction or a beginning and an end with no middle I'm not sure which.

Dayna.

I Agree

This story started out extremely well.

To make it a great story all you have to do is delete the last two paragraphs - - - and then add about 20,000 words.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Nice to see ...

Jezzi Stewart's picture

... the TG road less traveled, that David did not turn out TG ... Perhaps a kidnapping and slutifying by one of those amoral feminizing-for-the-fun-of-it bitches who often seem to be the TG road most traveled is in order. ... JUST KIDDING ... Well, maybe a mistaken intervention and a ladyfying.

BE a lady!

This story deserves a lot more chapters

Sorry Wren, good story but you have set up a dynasty of stories which deserve to be exploited.

Grand fathers, witches, cross dressing early 1900, Korean War, beautiful old house, Great Auntie and cookies, what else could be hidden in the diaries, inheritance, marriage new life and LGBT community support. (to mention a few)

Don't you think?

LoL
Rita

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)

LoL
Rita

I agree that there are more stories here

But at this time I was responding to Rasufelle's challenge to write about what he inherited, and what he discovered about his inheritance in the diary. I originally set out to write a comedy, but I think what I did was tap into a memory of a mean old lady who used to live on my block. She yelled at kids for walking on her sidewalk, or playing to loudly across the street. I was told she was very sad, because her son had died in the war (what war? I dunno).
I had to imagine that all I had to go on was what was in the diary, and the note that he found inside. Once I had that in mind, I finished the story as I did, which is why there is such a twist. My goal in the story was to write a twist no one would expect, and to keep David from being transformed or TG, as that was the expectation on this site, to be honest.
Don't get me wrong-I love those stories that have transformations! I just wanted to write a story that surprised my readers a bit.

Wren

That was beautiful!

That was beautiful!

Fluffy

Nice one, Wren

Somehow I thought this would take a different tack, but reading the comments, I think everyone did. Nevertheless, it's a darned good story and worthy of a thumbs up from me!

Jessica
I don't just look it, I'm totally impressed