Dust bit at the creaky old attic floors, soon to scatter with the steps of old familiarity. Avoiding lose planks, a boy danced across the floor, stopping at different boxes and looking through them. Soon he met with the wall opposite of where he started. He opened the box and inside it, atop a mess of things sat a picture frame, undamaged and unaging. He stared at the photo, a family photo he would never be apart of, trying desperately to ignore the approaching foot steps. Then, the attic hat creaked open with a shine of light, and an old woman stared at the boy. The boy carefully put the picture back, making his way to the door and grimly muttering, "I know I shouldn't be here"
YOU ARE READING
the writings of someone
Randomidk, stuff I write varying from complete fantasy to stuff that hides my thoughts and vents in them it's angsty stuff sometimes read with cation
