A portrait

A portrait

It could be seen an old woman smiling while showing to the author of the portrait, a plate with something painted on it. Behind the portrait was written: Not because I have this name, I must follow the same fate.

The youngest son of the family found it. In that dead time while waiting for his parents, doing all the tasks related to moving, he saw some gapes in the corner of the floor. He stared at it, then touched, and figuring out what could it be, put his nails in those lines and could move it. A box was there. And inside of it, the portrait.

There was a signature at the bottom of the lines. O´Connor. Between the lines that round the letter, he could see that. He knew that the surname was from Ireland or Scotland or something related to the British Isles, but, in this town, never have seen a surname like that.

Not because I have this name, I must follow the same fate. Those words were repeating all the time in the head of him. Changing the order of the words, of the letters, thinking what could it mean, if it was just a prank, but not, it was not.

-What the hell was this?- said without wanting during his first dinner in the new house. The mother quickly replied :
- What happens Luca?
-Well, nothing… just something I remembered about a game, you know?

The rest of the next day the family continued with the chores in the new house. Luca was forgetting it and remembering it all the time. Going to bed and still pondering over why that was written. Waking up and still thinking in the word “fate”.