Lines

Bulb

"Another bulb went out"

" 'Nother?"

"Yup."

"That makes four this week."

"I know, the ceiling fan only has but five to it!"

"S'pose you'll have to go up in the attic and get some more bulbs."

"S'pose I will."

His knees popped as he pushed himself onto his feet.

The boards beneath creaked and groaned as he made his way upstairs.

It sounded as though everything conspired against this endeavor.

Alas, the attic closed in around the old bones of the codger.

"Where's that damned light?"

His hand fumbled in the dark for the string.

His feet planted at the top of the ladder to the abyss of the attic.

His journey halted by sight, halted by the impenetrable dark.

"Gary I thought you put in a longer string fer this!"

A faint echo of what might be an uncertain question was all that greeted him.

He finally ascended fully into the attic, unsure of where the light's pull might hang.

His fingers grazed something, and quickly he grabbed onto it.

His hand wrapped around what was too thick to be a string.

Before he could let go to reassess, it wriggled against his grip.

Immediately he recoiled and stumbled back.

His feet slipped from under him.

They no longer clung to the ladder.

Gravity assumed the rest.

With a solid thud he landed against those old and dingy boards.

What once groaned from his weight now bore his groaning in silence.

A figure loomed over his blurred vision.

He mumbled out a pitiful "Gary?"

A voice that came from all directions answered back. "No."

It boomed and resounded in his head, an echo and a memory merged into one.

His eyes closed as the figure grabbed hold of his ribs and dragged him up into the black.

The ladder was yanked beyond the veil.

And the trapdoor slowly shut out the light.