Not the same style as my usual work, but it is one of the pieces I wrote for my final exams this year, and hopefully something to read while I work on new chapters.
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'You're the man of the house now',
my grandmother's words swirled in my mind. I gripped the rough wooden rail of the stairs that led to the attic. When I was a child I hated the attic, nothing had changed.
I switched on my torch, the click echoed in the dark room. I shone the light around searching for the string that turned the lights on. The thin white strand dangled before my eyes. I gave it a tug, and it came off in my hand as I pulled.
"Damn, how am I going to find those Christmas lights now?" I muttered under my breath as I threw the useless string off into some forsaken dark corner.
I sighed and continued to shine the torch around, squinting to see in the dim light.
As I ventured further into the attic I felt the darkness curl around me, squeezing me in its grip.
'Just find the lights and then straight out, simple', I thought to myself, trying to shake the fear that was threatening to rise.
I climbed around in the attic checking every box for the lights. Gripping the torch tightly in my hand,
I continued to search through boxes upon boxes, finding nothing more than books, old furniture and old diaries.
At the top of a box of diaries was a book unlike any other I had seen before. The book was bound with dark, worn leather. My stomach churned as my fingers brushed its strange cover.
I opened to the first page, written in large, manic scratches was a name, Laura Ward.
I quickly scanned the other pages, holding my torch more closely than before. Each page was filled the same name in the same scratches as before, each one seemingly written by some lunatic. I dropped the book back in the box and continued my search. Dust particles danced in my torch light as I shone it around the room.
As I ventured further into the recesses of the darkness goose bumps began to appear on my arms. I shivered as something scuttled away into the darkness. I searched inside more boxes only to find more papers and some sinister stuffed toys that looked to be decades old.
Every minute I stayed in the attic I became more desperate to just find the lights and get out of there. I shone my torch up above me, on shelves there were more boxes. I sighed and put my torch awkwardly in my mouth before reaching up and lowering the first one down.
The first box was surprisingly light, I placed it on the floor and opened it up. I jumped back dropping my torch. At the bottom of the box was a small heap of long blond hair. I scrambled to pick up the torch once again shining it on the box of hair.
"Why would you keep this?" I muttered under my breath disgusted. I placed the box back up on the shelf, now more desperate than ever to leave the attic.
I composed myself and placed the torch back in my mouth, ready to reach for the next box. The box was a little heavier than the last and far less worn. I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened it up, I had found the lights. I lifted the them of the floor and rushed towards the door. In my rush, I tripped over a loose floorboard, the box flying out of my hands and my torch bouncing away under an old dresser. I sighed and lay on my stomach peering underneath the dresser.
The torch light was faint, I reached under feeling my way around. The floor underneath it dipped, I'd have to move it to recover the torch. I stood up gripping the old dresser. I winced as I felt something crawl over my hand. The ancient furniture groaned as I strained to move it. Finally, I created enough space to squeeze through. I threw my arms out to steady myself as I almost fell down a hole. I peered into it, I could just make out the rungs of a ladder.
Grasping the cold, hard, metal rungs of the ladder I wondered if retrieving the torch was worth it. The descent was short and soon I was standing at the bottom. Picking up the torch, I began to climb back up when I saw what looked to be a door on the wall. Letting go of the rung I tentatively placed my hand on the door knob.
As I opened the door a stagnant, stale smell erupted from the room behind. I held my breath and shone the torch into the lifeless room.
I gasped forcing the contents of my stomach back down. Inside the room was the decaying body of a small child, a girl perhaps judging by the decaying floral dress, strapped into a chair in the centre of the cramped room.
I slammed the door closed and scrambled up the ladder, not even stopping to push the dresser back into place. I grabbed the Christmas lights and ran out of the attic, quickly closing the door behind me. I paused at the top of the stairway, unsure of how to face my grandmother.
I slowly made my way to the kitchen with the lights. I placed them on the bench in front of her.
"Thanks dear", she said with a smile "Your grandfather was always the one to go in the attic, now he's gone" She paused, "thank you for doing that for me".
I nodded unsure of what to say, she didn't know. All I was sure of is that I could never see my grandfather the same way.
