Grandpa Hardman's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Grandpa Hardman sat in his gaming chair and could not stand up. His brown beard spilled over the armrests and pooled on the dirt, heavy as wet rope. A hundred years of growing. A hundred years of aching bones. He gripped his cane, pulled hard, and went nowhere. The metal walls of the bunker rose around him on three sides. People had built it slowly, year by year, after it became clear he would not be moving. A roof. A door. A sealed front to keep the wind off. His chair sat dead center, anchored by the weight of his own face. Hardman pulled the small notebook from his coat pocket. One page. One name, written in shaky ink by the only person who had ever known. That person was gone now. The name was all he had left, and he could not walk a single step toward it. Small feet padded up to the open bunker door. Baby Daniel stood there in his diaper, bottle in hand, staring. "Why you stuck?" the baby asked. Hardman tapped the beard with his cane. "Too heavy, little one." Daniel's eyes went huge. "Me help. Me get Daddy." The baby ran. Minutes later Prince Danny ducked through the door, sword at his hip. He looked at the beard. He looked at the old man. "We cut it," Danny said. Hardman hesitated. Then he gave one slow nod. The blade came down clean. The beard fell away in a great brown heap, and Hardman rose for the first time in longer than he could count. His bones still ached. The curse still held. But his legs worked, and the notebook was in his pocket, and the name was waiting.