The attic was a forgotten place, cloaked in layers of dust and shadow. Wooden beams, aged and splintered, crisscrossed the low ceiling, casting long, spidery shapes in the dim light filtering through a single, grimy window. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and old paper, a mix of stale age and neglect. Boxes, half-crumpled and sagging under the weight of time, sat stacked in haphazard piles, some spilling their yellowed contents onto the creaky floorboards.
Cobwebs hung like delicate curtains in every corner, trembling with the slightest breeze. A broken mirror leaning against the far wall, its cracked surface reflecting fragments of the room, distorting shapes into eerie, ghostly figures. An old rocking chair sat silently in the centre, facing nothing, as if waiting for someone long forgotten.
Vivienne wiped the sweat from her brow, her hands covered in a fine layer of dust. The attic felt like a tomb—silent and heavy, the air stale from decades of abandonment. She moved cautiously between the clutter, lifting boxes filled with brittle newspapers and old trinkets. Every step made the floorboards groan in protest, but she pressed on, determined to clear out the junk.
As she swept her arm across a forgotten shelf, something small and heavy tumbled out and landed at her feet with a soft thud. Bending down, Vivienne picked it up—a leather-bound diary, its cover cracked and faded from age. The edges were worn, and the clasp that once kept it shut was broken, as though it had been opened in haste. She turned it over in her hands, feeling the weight of time in her fingers.
Her breath caught for a moment as she ran her thumb over the initials embossed on the cover—V.W. The initials felt familiar. The feel of the diary in her palm gave her a strange chill. Dusting it off, Vivienne opened it, the pages yellowed and delicate, smelling of old paper and ink.
The handwriting was neat at first, precise, but as she flipped through the pages, the script became frantic, erratic, as if the writer had been in a rush—or terrified.
YOU ARE READING
Beneath The Dust
Mystery / ThrillerVivienne Wilson finds an old diary in the attic of her large Victorian house. The entries speak of an unsolved mystery, dating back almost two centuries ago. As she reads the diary, she finds herself connected with its author. Will she be able to so...
