HOME MOVIES by Ken Whitson, double shot Boodles gin, up and on the rocks

 

Bill sifted through Gran’s attic, a bittersweet task. Amidst mothballed quilts and dusty albums, he found distinctly non-granny-like items: a feather boa, body paint, risqué sleepwear, and oddly, two sets of padded handcuffs. Gramps must’ve been freakier than I thought. Shaking his head, he struggled to reconcile the thought with his childhood memories of Gran. Gran’s house was always bustling—the mailman, plumber, even the pastor always dropping by for tea. Her bridge club friends visited often, their laughter and music always drifting up from the basement.

An old projector and a stack of unlabeled reels pulled Bill’s attention back to the task at hand. Excited for a glimpse of family history, he set it up, dimmed the lights and flipped the switch.

The projector whirred, bright light casting Gran, in all her monochrome glory, onto a stained white-sheet-turned-impromptu-screen.

“Oh, my!” Bill gasped, eyes widening, closing, then creeping open again.

The bridge club meetings, Gran’s frequent visitors, her special tea... Shaking the images from his head, Bill hastily cut the power and returned the reel to its case. Some family secrets, he realized with a mix of horror and amusement, are definitely best left unexplored.

About the author

Ken Whitson is a retired civil servant who hasn't quite figured out what retirement means. He crafts vivid, emotionally charged fiction blending unexpected humor with genuine heart - from gods sharing drinks to couples navigating curveballs. Published internationally, he kayak fishes Virginia's backwaters when not "unretiring" or abusing his keyboard.

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