The Attic
The old wooden stairs creaked under her tiptoed step as a young girl slowly ascended towards the big drafty green door. She put her sweatshirt sleeve over her hand and grasped the cold metal doorknob. As she pulled it open a gust of cold musty air and swaying spider webs warned her to turn back. But, ignoring the warning, she went on any way into the dark attic. She switched on a lone light bulb, though it didn’t really help light the room. Then, clutching her small black notebook, she approached a plain wood wardrobe that covered the left-hand wall.
It stood tall over her and beckoned her as if a secret lied inside waiting to be found. Should she open it and walk inside? If she did she might find a magical realm full of adventure, witches and lions! But, she didn't, the wardrobe did not belong to her. She did, however, take the key dangling from a hook on the side of the wardrobe, which is against her whole nature.
Earlier that week, Anne had fought a huge conflict with herself on whether or not to take the key. I could fill a whole book on all the excuses she made on not taking it. But, she had done it anyway, her curiosity got the better of her and she told herself, "I'll put it back when I'm done. No harm to anyone."
Now back to the present time: Anne turned around and walked over to the opposite wall and dug her fingernails into a square panel that was cut into the wall and pulled out the panel that had hidden a keyhole. She put the key in and turned it and, as it clicked, a door in the wall swung open sending out a cloud of dust.
If you think architecturally (I'm not sure if that's a word, but you know what I mean) then behind that wall should be the barn that's connected to the side of the house, but instead there was a tree. Anne brushed past the tree and arrived at a small open field as big as the barn should be. The smell of wildflowers filled the air around her and fresh spring breezes blew the trees surrounding her so hard that it seemed as if they moved. Anne looked around with wonder at the new scenery; she was glad of the warm weather, because at home it was January.
“It’s perfect!” she said out loud with joy. She immediately found a patch of lovely red flowers to sit in and took out her little notebook. Then she began whisking away with her pencil; the red flowers around her appeared on one page, on the next exotic looking blue flowers bloomed and tiny bugs crawled.
Half of a bird fluttered onto the next page. His head and wings were left unfinished because something had caught Anne’s eye while she was drawing. It looked like a dragonfly but had the body of a stag. Its little white antlers glittered in the sunlight as it perched next to her.
Anne could not take her eyes off of it; she had never seen anything like it. (Well, of course she hadn’t, have you?) And when the stag-fly buzzed its tiny dragonfly wings and zipped away, the girl chased after it not wanting to lose sight of that magnificent creature. But, the bug seemed to be suspicious of the golden-haired girl following after it and never landed so she could get a better look at it. It pranced, or buzzed, or whatever it did, into a dark forest and was lost to sight.
It was then that Anne became aware of her surroundings. She peered into the dark forest that stood tall and gloomy, looming over her like a giant waiting to devour her. But, she back away, defying the giant’s wishes and leaving the bug to whatever doom must lie beyond those cold branches.
She turned around and looked back to where she came from, but nothing looked familiar. The red patch of flowers was no where to be found; she must have run farther than she thought while chasing the stag-fly. Frantically she searched the ground for her little black drawing book. She would peer around bushes and trees and, every once in a while, would rush towards any glimpse of red only to find something other than her patch of flowers.
After a while someone found the things that poor Anne was searching for. He knelt down and picked up the black book and wondered at it. He had never seen any kind of book before. As he flipped through the pages and the animals and flowers grew around him, he began to wonder about the owner of this mysterious object.
At that very moment he heard a rustling from behind a clump of bushes and caught a glimpse of something blue. He crept over, in an inhumanly quiet sort of way, hid himself behind those same bushes and peered around to see who was disturbing the land. It was a girl with golden hair wearing the strangest clothes; a light blue sweatshirt and jeans. (Though, he didn’t know what they were called)
She was a creature unlike any he had ever seen and the sight of her made the pit of his stomach twist and curl and his heart raced. It was not a bad feeling, it actually made him happy, but it was strange and it scared him. He tore his eyes away and sat with his back to the girl. The way he felt when he looked at her could only mean one thing: she had put a spell on him. She must be a witch!
“It’s a good thing,” he thought to himself, “that I looked away when I did!
It stood tall over her and beckoned her as if a secret lied inside waiting to be found. Should she open it and walk inside? If she did she might find a magical realm full of adventure, witches and lions! But, she didn't, the wardrobe did not belong to her. She did, however, take the key dangling from a hook on the side of the wardrobe, which is against her whole nature.
Earlier that week, Anne had fought a huge conflict with herself on whether or not to take the key. I could fill a whole book on all the excuses she made on not taking it. But, she had done it anyway, her curiosity got the better of her and she told herself, "I'll put it back when I'm done. No harm to anyone."
Now back to the present time: Anne turned around and walked over to the opposite wall and dug her fingernails into a square panel that was cut into the wall and pulled out the panel that had hidden a keyhole. She put the key in and turned it and, as it clicked, a door in the wall swung open sending out a cloud of dust.
If you think architecturally (I'm not sure if that's a word, but you know what I mean) then behind that wall should be the barn that's connected to the side of the house, but instead there was a tree. Anne brushed past the tree and arrived at a small open field as big as the barn should be. The smell of wildflowers filled the air around her and fresh spring breezes blew the trees surrounding her so hard that it seemed as if they moved. Anne looked around with wonder at the new scenery; she was glad of the warm weather, because at home it was January.
“It’s perfect!” she said out loud with joy. She immediately found a patch of lovely red flowers to sit in and took out her little notebook. Then she began whisking away with her pencil; the red flowers around her appeared on one page, on the next exotic looking blue flowers bloomed and tiny bugs crawled.
Half of a bird fluttered onto the next page. His head and wings were left unfinished because something had caught Anne’s eye while she was drawing. It looked like a dragonfly but had the body of a stag. Its little white antlers glittered in the sunlight as it perched next to her.
Anne could not take her eyes off of it; she had never seen anything like it. (Well, of course she hadn’t, have you?) And when the stag-fly buzzed its tiny dragonfly wings and zipped away, the girl chased after it not wanting to lose sight of that magnificent creature. But, the bug seemed to be suspicious of the golden-haired girl following after it and never landed so she could get a better look at it. It pranced, or buzzed, or whatever it did, into a dark forest and was lost to sight.
It was then that Anne became aware of her surroundings. She peered into the dark forest that stood tall and gloomy, looming over her like a giant waiting to devour her. But, she back away, defying the giant’s wishes and leaving the bug to whatever doom must lie beyond those cold branches.
She turned around and looked back to where she came from, but nothing looked familiar. The red patch of flowers was no where to be found; she must have run farther than she thought while chasing the stag-fly. Frantically she searched the ground for her little black drawing book. She would peer around bushes and trees and, every once in a while, would rush towards any glimpse of red only to find something other than her patch of flowers.
After a while someone found the things that poor Anne was searching for. He knelt down and picked up the black book and wondered at it. He had never seen any kind of book before. As he flipped through the pages and the animals and flowers grew around him, he began to wonder about the owner of this mysterious object.
At that very moment he heard a rustling from behind a clump of bushes and caught a glimpse of something blue. He crept over, in an inhumanly quiet sort of way, hid himself behind those same bushes and peered around to see who was disturbing the land. It was a girl with golden hair wearing the strangest clothes; a light blue sweatshirt and jeans. (Though, he didn’t know what they were called)
She was a creature unlike any he had ever seen and the sight of her made the pit of his stomach twist and curl and his heart raced. It was not a bad feeling, it actually made him happy, but it was strange and it scared him. He tore his eyes away and sat with his back to the girl. The way he felt when he looked at her could only mean one thing: she had put a spell on him. She must be a witch!
“It’s a good thing,” he thought to himself, “that I looked away when I did!
* * *
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