I didn't like staying at Grandma's. The trees always creaked and groaned at night, the wind from the lake screaming through the branches. She never seemed to want me there either, making the bare minimum for food and shooing me out of the house as soon as daylight crept into the secluded valley. I'd play out in the trees, making castles and slingshots until she called me in for supper, made me scrub down, and sent me to bed. I'd almost say she hated the outdoors with how long she made me take, making sure every leaf and speck of dirt was out of my hair when I emerged. It was a little strange, considering she lived in the middle of nowhere.
Tonight, the wind was the strongest yet, beating the unsecured shutters against the house. A loud crash echoed from the attic, and I tiptoed to the window, confident the creaking of the house would be enough to hide my footsteps if she had woken up. Outside, the landscape had drastically changed, a thinner tree blocking my view, leaning against the house. I ran to my Grandma's room where she was snoring softly, her bottle of sleeping pills still open next to her. I tried to shake her awake, to no avail. Seeing my chance to finally enter the forbidden attic, I reentered the hallway, closing the door as softly as I could before pulling down the cord. I caught the ladder, easing it to the ground and eagerly climbing up it.
The attic was dark, but the moon had broken through the clouds, giving me a split second of light to see my grandma looking back at me, chained to the wall.
YOU ARE READING
WritOber 2022
Short StoryA few short autumn writing exercises for the month of October.
