Twenty-five-year-old Adam begrudgingly went up the attic stairs. When he reached the door he paused, unsure if he would really go through with what he had to do.
“Why must I go up here to my grandmother’s old attic anyhow? What is the point? I just don’t understand,” he wondered.
Then he reached for the door knob and tried it. It stuck for just a moment and then it slowly creaked open for him. Inside the old attic it was very dark and musty smelling. He cautiously reached for the light switch. Where was it? He brushed away a few cobwebs. Ah, yes, there it was, just to the left. It flashed on and the suddenness of the yellow light stung his eyes for a moment. When they had adjusted to the new light, he gazed about himself.
“Now,” he said to himself, “Where is this old trunk I must find?” He saw before him several boxes, a few labeled ‘Christmas decor’, and ‘books’. A few ratty old wreathes piled up on a beat up couch, and a manikin in one corner. Then something unusual caught his eye. What was this? A box labeled ‘Adam’. He slowly went over to it, and carefully opened it. And what met his eyes was a curious sight.
Copyright 2012 by Sadie F.