The dirty stairs to the attic, long unused, creek underfoot. The shadows of evening creep in through the round windows as I ascend. Dust plays before my eyes, dancing in the stretched beams of dying light. It will be dark in the attic. Up there the windows will be boarded up. I don’t know if the light will come on. I may need to replace the bulb. The smooth plastic of my unlit flashlight is in my hand, and now I stand in front of that door I locked so many years ago. I can no longer run from it.
Drabble: The Attic
Tale Told 