#writephoto — The Mausoleum

Martin finally received the results back from his DNA test. He was adopted when he was an infant and never knew who his real parents were. He was told that he had been adopted, but he never felt the need to know about his biological parents who had abandoned him. He loved the mother and father who raised him and he knew that they loved him.

But when his adoptive parents died a year ago in a freak car accident, there was a huge hole in Martin’s heart. So he decided to dig into who he is, and step one was sending a small sample of his saliva to one of those DNA testing services.

Martin was nervous when he opened the envelope and read the report. The results weren’t at all what he was expecting.

AF3CBF07-CF0F-4853-86B3-679D360F928DMartin’s adoptive parents were black. Martin’s skin was the color of coffee with a touch of cream. He’d always considered himself to be African-American. And yet, according to the report and the graph, his ancestry was less than six percent African. He was more than half French, almost one-third Jamaican, and about twelve percent Brazilian.

Martin also learned that he had no living relatives. His closest relative, his birth father, had died at the age of 60 when Martin was 19. Martin Googled his birth father and learned that he was a wealthy man who made his fortune in coal mining. He also discovered that his mother had died in childbirth. His father never remarried and had no other children.

The Google article noted that his father had been the great grandson of slave owners in Mississippi. The family left that state and moved to West Virginia after the Civil War due to a scandal over his great grandfather having had a torrid affair with a slave. His maternal grandmother was the product of that affair. She had been handed over to a family of freed slaves after her birth.

“That explains a lot,” thought Martin. Apparently his father, seeing the black baby his mother had birthed, gave the child up for adoption, rather than deal with yet another scandal, since he knew that his unhappy wife had been having an affair with a Jamaican diplomat.

Martin found out that the family had a mausoleum in West Virginia and he decided to go visit it. There he saw a statue of his great grandfather, the slave owner, in the rotunda of the shrine. It was then that Martin decided to contact the lawyers of his late father’s estate and claim his birthright to his birth family’s fortune, using the DNA evidence he had to bolster his claim.

And Martin vowed to donate it all — millions of dollars — to the Black Lives Matter movement.

Written for this week’s Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.

11 thoughts on “#writephoto — The Mausoleum

  1. Sue Vincent February 8, 2018 / 1:14 pm

    A timely piece considering the recent news here in the UK, that ‘Cheddar Man’…ancestor of the majority of the population… has been reconstructed from a DNA sample, showing he had dark to black skin and blue eyes. A bit of a blow for those to whom skin colour is an issue… 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sight11 February 8, 2018 / 1:50 pm

    I have to say the last paragraph was unexpected. It sure was a great post. Oh! Damm autocorrect change your statement, whole instead of hole…the heart line (2nd para 3rd line)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Fandango February 8, 2018 / 4:11 pm

      Alas, I can’t blame that on autocorrect. It was strictly human error. Thanks for catching it and letting me know.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. KL Caley February 13, 2018 / 12:08 am

    Wow! Great story… I wonder how many people have actually found such stories (about ancestry, not secret fortunes). KL ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Fandango February 13, 2018 / 6:48 am

      I know a few who’ve been surprised.


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