There she was, whacking away at those men like they were on fire. Everyone was there to help her but chose not to. The robbers stumbled to their scooters still under attack. One falls and
she's already on him, swinging away. It's a wonder how one so fragile would be able to hold up so long. And the fact that they can't defend themselves because she is a woman! Ha, those fools. All
six of the robbers, smeared in bruises and blood were arrested. Millie Roberts was hailed a hero.
Now before I go any further I would like to tell you a little about this story. The first thing I want to tell you is that it is based off of a real event, names are changed, and genetic mutations are added. Copying this without author's permission is illegal and you will be hunted down. Do not be surprised if there is an angry mob waiting at your door because you chose not to listen to me. Your choice. Now to continue with this amazing story in the making, read on.
Full Name: Millie Ann Timson Roberts
Age: 71 years old
Occupation: Full-time Grandmother
Hobbies: Fighting criminals and knitting
That's her profile that a few kids around the block rumored about. The age and name are absolutely true. For the first couple of weeks she wanted her identity to remain a secret, uninterested with the plenty of paparazzi that surrounded her home or the news reporters that followed her to her daily doings. She was hailed a hero by the Northampton jeweller's store she saved from the criminals. No reward she claimed from her heroic bravery, saying that she was only doing what was right out of her heart. Her image became an icon on the front page of the newspapers for weeks on end.
"Mother, why do you insist on not doing an interview with the paper?" Her daughter Elizabeth who was almost half her age questioned. Thinking that her mother was just being stubborn for refusing to accept an interview request. Cradling her blown up stomach in her arms she looked upon her mother impatiently.
"Well, aren't you acting pretty arsey? That poor babe has got you fidgety and acting all paranoid. I don't want to be a hero 'cause I'm not. I was only acting upon what my heart told me." Her London accent was very strong when she was stressed.
"Would one interview hurt?"
"I don't want that kind of attention brought upon this family. Think about the baby and how that would affect its childhood." That was the end of the conversation. Much to her regret she did the interview only to cease the constant paparazzi and repeated news reporters asking questions.
"I'd been shopping and was on my way down Gold Street when I met a friend and stopped to have a chat. I became aware of a loud revving noise and when I looked over I saw a kid run up to the doorway of the jeweller. "Three lads followed him and, when I saw their arms going, I thought the kid was being beaten up."
"My mother's instinct kicked in and I ran across the road shouting at the lads to stop it. I was not going to stand by and watch someone take a beating so I intervened.
"As I got closer I saw it was a robbery - and then I was even MORE angry
that they felt they could get away with that in broad daylight. One of the gang shot off down Gold Street on a scooter and nearly hit a woman and baby. "
"I clobbered him with my shopping, but he got away. The rest were still trying to smash and grab the jewellery."
"I just kept swinging my bag, then they tried to escape. I landed several blows against one lad on the back of a bike and brought him to the ground. He raised a hammer to me so I kept hitting out and shouting for others to bring them down. Several people then came to help. It seemed to be over in seconds."
"So how do you feel that no one came to help you?"
"I was amazed, they all seemed mesmerized. In the cold light of day I know I put myself in danger, but I'd probably do the same again. I'm not a hero, but somebody had to do something." She spoke from her heart. She believed that she was no hero and that something just had to be done.
Months after the robbery, Millie's arthritis suddenly turned for the worst leaving her in a wheelchair permanently. She often strolls down Gold Street, where her face is plastered in the window of the Northampton jeweller's store. It reminds her of all of those stories that her grandson used to read. Oh what was the name of it? Ah, Superman! The handsome, young superhero whose only weakness was some kind of green rock. Only that my weakness is inside of me. Arthritis. It would go on the same day after day. Her wheeling up that street, thinking of how she may never be able to walk again.
"Mother, we need to get
you to the doctor!" Frantically her daughter said after seeing her mother for
the fifth time that day hunch over into a spasm of liquid coughing.
"Codswallop! That doctor has nothing for me; He's the one who cursed me
"That doctor did nothing but try to treat you. Come on, we can get into
my car and go right this minute." As patient as she was, she could not stand to see her mother in such a state. Seeing that her mother started to get up, she walked to the old lady and helped her into her wheelchair.
On the way there they passed the Northampton jeweller's store. Millie dared
not to look out the window fearing seeing her face in their window mocking her. They arrived at Northampton General Hospital just as Dr. Bult came from his lunch break. Walking into the hospital they spotted Dr. Bult coming into the
Lobby from the opposite side.
"Hey Elizabeth, Millie. What can I do for you two today?" Dr. Bult was a tall, skinny doctor who was now just getting a touch of gray in his natural brown shaggy hair.
"My mother has been coughing like bananas for the past couple of weeks
and she has been stuck in her wheelchair too. Can you take a look at her?"
Looking at his watch, he made a funny look Elizabeth recognized was stress."Um, I have an appointment right now, can you wait 'bout 30 minutes?"
"Yea, but please hurry, she might start coughing again." All the while she and the doctor were talking; Millie wheeled herself over to the huge aquarium and was staring at an algae eater wondering if it was healthy for it to eat that stuff.
"Mother, what are you doing?"
"Is that stuff that fish is eating healthy for it? It just sticks to the glass and feeds off of that dirt." Seemingly confused she turned to her daughter expecting a detailed answer that her daughter was oh so famous of giving.
"That is what they eat. How do you think they survive? Algae is kind of like spinach, it helps them grow and protects their immune systems. It's as healthy to them as spinach is to us." She eyed her mother with curiosity. Is her hair turning white? She looks like she is getting more wrinkles. I hope she gets better. It's not going to do her any good if she keeps staring at those fish like that. That is when she noticed the algae eater. The more her mother stared at it the more frail she looked. Maybe she's tired, depressed even.
"Elizabeth, Millie, I can see you now." It seemed like this was his first time in years since seeing the old lady in such a condition. Before he diagnosed her with arthritis, she seemed so spirit-filled and colourful. Now she seems filled with fatigue and pale. He led them into room 214 where they helped Millie onto the examination bed. "So what seems to be the problem?"
"She has been coughing like bananas for weeks. She refused to go to the doctor up until now." Elizabeth said with a bit of pain as her mother burst into a fit of coughing.
"I see what you mean. Millie, when did you first start coughing like this?"
Reluctantly Millie answered, "Just a week after the robbery. At first it was just small, little puffs of air, then it started to get worse after a couple of days."
"Has your arthritis been acting up as well? I noticed that you came in your wheelchair."
"Yes, I cannot get up or even stretch my legs, my daughter has to help me with everything."
"Ah, I see. Well, I am going to start off with the usual procedure of checking your breathing, your heart beat, your ears and mouth, and then I can check other things."Dr. Bult left the room and came back five minutes later with a lab coat on and a stethoscope. He checked all of the usual and went back out again.
"He said that your ears and mouth looked good." Said Elizabeth.
"What 'bout my heart though? He said nothing about that. Maybe it's just a fever or something?" As frightened as she was she did not want to jinx herself into making it into anything worse.
"Yea, maybe. But with the way you've been coughing, I would think it to be something else. How are you feeling?" Dr. Bult came back then and said that he had to run some tests on Millie in another room. Elizabeth went back into the waiting room and picked up The Sun newspaper. Her mother's picture smack dab in the middle. She compared the picture to how her mother looked now. She looks much more happier in the picture, and healthier. Maybe it's just stress that has got her like this?
Dr. Bult came out and motioned for her to follow him. They walked down a long corridor into a dimly lit room. On the outside of the door there was a sign that said "Do Not Disturb. Testing in progress." Her mother was sitting in her wheelchair, her face expressionless. Is she trembling? Elizabeth sat down in the chair next to her mother. She reached out to hold her hand and looked up at the doctor.
"I didn't want to tell you until you both were in the room. I ran some tests and found something that may disturb you both. Now usually you would have to make an appointment before you decide to get something checked out but seeing as how Mrs. Ceaser was my last appointment of the day, I decided to go ahead and do some tests. Now what you have is not a sex-linked trait. Mrs. Roberts, you have cancer." He watched their expressions go from neutral to complete shock. In Millie's eyes there was complete fear.
After that day with the doctor, the first physical signs of cancer started to show. Millie's bright red hair started to fall out by the handfuls. Her daughter tried everything she could to help her, but nothing would cheer the old woman up. Everyday Elizabeth would find her sitting in the living room looking out the window, from dawn to dusk. She would bring her a tray of food at every mealtime but her mother would politely deny it. Weeks went by and Elizabeth ended up trying to take care of her mother from her hospital bed. The baby was about to be born and Elizabeth could do nothing to help her mother but give orders to the nurses to go and help with anything that she might need. Elizabeth was in great pain the day that the baby was born.
"How is my mother doing? Is her bed comfortable enough? When did she last eat? Is she awake?" The same questions almost every ten minutes. She ordered the nurses to go and check on her mother more often now that she was in great pain. The moment came that the baby was about to be born. All of the doctors and nurses were scattered calmly/professionally inside and outside of Elizabeth's room. At the same moment something terribly wrong happened with her mother. While the nurses were rushing to help Elizabeth, one of them had tripped over a cord that powered the machine that helped Millie breathe. No one noticed what happened until after the baby was born.
Millie was gasping for air after the automatic breather was unplugged. She had lost most of her hair and what she did have was in thin clumps. She fought for her life like she fought those robbers, never giving up. A numbing feeling started creeping through her legs and to her arms. "I'm not gonna make it," was what her mind wanted to say, it wanted to stop fighting. She was not going to let it win. The struggle felt like it went on for hours or mere seconds. The last thing she heard was a loud scream before she fell unconscious.
5 months later. . .
"Come on Andre, we have to get going. No, here." Elizabeth and Andy got settled into the car and headed off. Andy was looking
out the window at all of the bright surroundings and tall buildings. They were both dressed in black and were going to a funeral. The priest was already there
and was ushering people into the church.
"I'll never forget her." Tears streamed down Elizabeth's face as she said her last goodbyes to the woman buried 6 feet
"I won't either." Elizabeth's brother, Andre said. His voice was on the verge of cracking. Elizabeth had only seen him cry once,
when Skipper, his first dog died 7 years ago. After the funeral they took a long trip to the heart of London. Elizabeth dropped her brother off at his job
and continued on to her destination.
"How are you doing dearie?" The receptionist asked Elizabeth.
"Fine." Elizabeth asked. This was the first time she came to Llanfair. Another lady came and escorted her into an empty room. She
waited for almost ten minutes when the same lady brought another woman into the room.
"How was the funeral?" The woman asked.
"It was sad, I am really going to miss her."
"Me too, she was a brave, wonderful woman."
"I brought someone here to see you." Elizabeth unwrapped part of the blanket she was carrying. A little hand popped out. The woman
looked amazed. "He is only 5 months old." The woman reached her arms out to hold the baby, and Elizabeth placed the baby into her arms.
"What is his name?"
"Millard Timson-Roberts. He has your hair."
"Well, red hair was always the strongest in the family."
"Yes it was mother."
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