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Blue-badger21's Journal of Utter Randomness
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Broken Memories of the Maestro 1: Her Final Gift
By Blue-badger21
Summary: Logan remembers the memories from the time he spent with his mother; whom he hasn’t seen or heard from during the important years of his life.

I. Her Final Gift
Standing on top of a small stool, Logan looked on the top shelf of his closet for his old toys to give away to the orphanage children that was just a block away from their mansion. Bringing every box of old items he had so he could have a better chance of finding them. After a few moments of box moving work, he finally found them at the very far end of the closet. “There you are you little,” he mumbled, reaching to get a hold of the box.
Once he did, he gently brought it to the floor. Then dusting him of dust; he proceeded to sneeze. Then, he caught sight of a very unfamiliar box in the closet. Curious, he took it and opened it. Inside was a small, brown, treasure chest-like box with small intricate designs that were the color of gold. ‘Bah, another box,’ he thought, frowning, ‘I’m sick of seeing these now.’
He brought it out and observed it from his hand. Turning it from every angle, a dim memory seemed to appear in his mind, playing like a small projector….

‘He was small at the time, around the age of one, when his mother was still here in the mansion with him and his father. At that time, he felt as if his mother was feeling distant and sad. Sometimes she would just hold him, with a sad smile as they walked around the garden. She would ruffle his light brown, hazel colored hair, and hum him the song she played on the piano.
One day, they were at the garden, sitting on one of the stone benches like usual. Then, she brought out the small chest, saying, ‘Logan, here is a gift that I would like you to have,’ she pauses. ‘It belonged to my mother, and I want you to have it,’ she placed it in his small little hands. He smiled at the new ‘toy’ in his hands; making her laugh. ‘There’s a magic trick,’ she said, opening the box for him. Once the lid was opened, slowly popped out a little piano made of clear glass, and the song that she played on the piano started playing, but it was like of small light beats.
He giggled and clapped his hands. She smiled, and closed the chest. Ruffling his hair, she said in a tight voice, ‘I want you to have it,’ she pauses. ‘To remember me over the years when I’m out of your life,’ Tears then started flowing down her cheeks. He titled his head to the side, confusion on his face. She ran a hand through his hair. ‘My sweet Logan, my son,’ she gently kissed him on the top of his head.’

At the end of the memory, he looked down at the floor with a distant look upon his face. He hardly remembered her face now, but he would always remember the sound of her voice and her laughter. He misses her; the sound of her voice, and the feel of her hand ruffling his hair. Looking at the small chest, he opened it; and up came the small glass piano and the small light beats of her song. A smile then slowly appeared on his lips, and then turned into a small frown. “Mom,” he whispered. “I miss you.”
There was a sudden knock on the door, which made Logan close the chest. “Come in,” he said.
The door opened and his father came in, his cane making a beat on the hard wooden floor as he walked. “Logan, come now, Sister Catherine is waiting for us at the orphanage,” he noticed the chest in his hand. “That chest…. It’s from your mother, right?”
“Yes,” he started. “I found it in the shelf of my closet.”
Charles smiled softly. “I remember her showing that to me,” he said. “She told me she would give that to you… Before she….” His voice trailed off.
Logan approached his father, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know, dad,” he reassured the older man.
Charles placed a hand on top of Logan’s and gave it a small squeeze. “I knew you would.”
Logan pulled his hand away, and placed the small chest on his nightstand. “Well, shall we get going then?” he flashed a grin at his father. “Sister Catherine and the children are waiting for us.”
Charles smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, let us go now.”
Logan bent down and picked up the box full of toys. Both men left the room, walked down the grand staircase of their home, walked to the garage, and drove off to the orphanage in Logan’s car.

Author’s Note: Man, I never thought I could write this. More will come up soon, hopefully… Darn, I have to get started on that medieval fic, but I couldn’t come up with a good title. Anyway, this fic will eventually lead you to what happened to Logan’s mom after all the years. If you have any questions about Logan’s mother, do not hesitate to ask, because I will gladly answer your questions. -Blue

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