Of a Trapped Girl

Our Attic? Maybe

It was chilly and quiet in the attic. There was almost no light, just a few thin bright sunbeams were passing through a small window and its crookedly hanging shutters. The dust pieces sparkled and slowly spiraled to the ground, but began spinning faster even when a gentle breeze blew into them, like trying to bend a candle's flame.

The loft was full of various items. Old boxes balanced on top of each other, wardrobes, cabinets, shelves and cupboards were all covered with dust. Some of these were hidden under huge white sheets, untouched, since everyone was afraid to see what was underneath. Among the furniture, antiquities piled up. There were old books with yellow paper, there were brass candlesticks. Forgotten bicycles with no wheels, armchairs with springs sticking out, broken mirrors, oak stools, scratched paintings and coat racks. All those items were so close to each other, that it was impossible to make a way through. At least that is what the Virginia's old lady thought.

Near the window, where the beams touched the floor, were the boxes forming a circle. The dust was swept away from the rough parquets in this area. There was a low round table with a gramophone laid on it, couch, one flat pillow, and loads of fabric. Colorful blankets and pillows were draped over the backs of chairs, lying around, peeking out of cabinets. And if one looked closely, they could see clothes in between. White dresses, Manchester pants, patterned shirts. They made an impression as if someone angrily throw them out of their wardrobe, and never got to clean up that explosion.

"Hey! Look here! Why am I even tryin'? Stop cuddling that dog and pay your attention to me," shouted a girl and throwed an overly big pillow on her friend. Both of them chuckled.

"Sorry, Ginny," he smiled.

"You always get distracted by that dog. C'mon Ben, you're much better in playing than me."

"Okay, but I'll have to go slowly. Your lady will come in a less than an hour and I still haven't done all my work."

"Well, fine... So, where did we end? Oh, I remember," she coughed and fixed her posture," ahem, Sir Ben, what makes you believe that I'll allow you to marry my daughter?" She was wearing a brown cape. The girl had a black rumpled hat, and a porcelain vase in her left hand. It was supposed to represent a king's apple. In her right hand, she held a scoop. Virginia bravely stood on a podium made of wood planks and thin boxes, and the sun from the window framing her silhouette made her look mystical. When she moved her head, her black soft curls gracefully swayed. Ben was sprawled out on their pale old-pink couch, stroking the dog which was sleeping in his lap.

They played a theatre in the attic. Although there was no clock and neither of the kids had a watch, according to the sun one could guess the time to late summer afternoon. The heat was slowly disappearing from the house, the garden, the fields and the nearby village. The air became colder with every minute, and the light was also preparing to hide and make room for the night.