Zero Flashes

I decided that I needed to write something…anything. Today’s word prompt for the 6-Word Story was time and thought why not continue it to something longer. I edited it and rewrote parts trying to keep in mind what I have learned so far in my writing class. I focused on a character’s description trying to use as few detailing words as possible. The end goal was for the main character not to live hour by hour but rather moment by moment. This was achieved by force from an outside source. I think I may have failed at this. It feels generic and boring. I haven’t really written anything in length in a while and lost my train of thought more times than I can count. I know it’s the pain in my jaw but it’s less today and I need to get back into the swing of things… especially ones that I love. The prompt was, ‘All the clocks stopped working’.


sundialSam ran her life by the clock. The little timepiece on her wrist, on her phone, in the car, and even in her bathroom added numerical values to her daily life. Sometimes it was stressful and sometimes it felt like time would drag on. Some days she would have everything completed while others she had nothing but time left over with nothing to fill the tick-tocks between numbers.
5am- Run for half hour
5:30am- Shower
6am-Dress, gather and pack purse and lunch
6:45am-Breakfast
7:30am-Arrive at work
Sam’s mornings were always like this, day in and day out. She was a creature of habit and completely ok with her life, all while checking what time it was.

It was late fall when she woke up to her alarm clock flashing zeros. She panicked a little knowing she woke up late and behind schedule but also concluded that the electricity had gone out. Picking her phone up she realized the time face on her device was flashing zeros. Now confusion was added to her panic. She thought her watch would be able to tell her which number in the day she was really at but the little thin gold hands weren’t making their rounds. As she went from room to room all her clocks stopped and that’s when she thought her brother was playing a prank on her. The previous night she told her brother that she would have to check her calendar to see if she had time to meet him for dinner next week. When she was looking through her phone’s calendar app she told him that she could set a reminder for 7pm next Wednesday. Her brother laughed at her, ‘You have to make time to see your family?’ he said laughing at her. Dismissing the memory of the conversation, she turned the TV on to find the time. Nothing.

It was light out already, not yet bright and Sam thought it was past time for her daily run and shower. She shoved a hastily made sandwich and water into her purse and ran out the door. The clock in her car wasn’t any help either. Some people sped past her and some she had to pass. Once she was at her office she noticed it was absolute chaos and confusion. Some of her coworkers were present and some were not. She sat at her computer discovering all her programs and internet were working correctly but the clock. That damn useless clock displaying zeros. Was her time up? Was the world’s time up?
‘SAM!’ she turned to see her little round boss red, sweaty, and out of breath.
‘Yes, Mr. Timbalt?’
‘Do you know what time it is?’
Knowing this couldn’t be a trick question and that she wasn’t in trouble she answered honestly. ‘No,’ she said in a lost voice.
Mr. Timbalt’s face dropped and he took off in what would be considered fast for him but regular pace for Sam. A newspaper runs on deadlines but there was a story. They are ALL living it right now.

The news channel in the office sputtered to life with both anchors looking disheveled and unprepared. They couldn’t give answers as to why no one could tell time but it happened all over the world and all at once. They explained experts were going to come and help tell what time it is by the sun during the days measuring light to add back a semblance of order to the chaos. These experts were actually hunters, farmers, fishermen, and astronomers to name a few. Sam thought it was unusual to refer to this method as a lost art but in reality, the confusion the entire world was going through proved that it was.

A year later, life was still productive and scheduled but it was relaxed and prioritized with the essentials. The world wasn’t thrown back into the Stone Age and technology still advanced. Time was a gift now appreciated and not live by. Sam still works at the newspaper and still makes deadlines but isn’t a slave to her watch. All around the world, the clocks that remained in place stand like statues with their hands resting at 12 and one seconds over. Some speculated that the time loss was due to a magnetic phenomenon while other’s suggested that it was an act of God. Sam thought it was an answer to bring life back to what’s important no matter what caused the zeros.

Photo: Sundial

Fenton Friday: July Wk 2-Collaborators WANTED

Happy Fenton Friday which is also Friday the 13th (Cue: ch ch ch ah ah ah-did you know that there is some debate about that?). With it being dark and stormy out and the date it’s almost fitting for me to leave work, go home, and horror movie it up. Nope, got to be an adult.

Last Friday I posted asking for input some things about our character(s) and the setting. The first Episode for Fenton had some holes that I just didn’t think of at the time and thought it would be great to get y’alls input with this being a collaborative writing project. Read through the previous post’s questions and chime in. There are NO WRONG IDEAS.

Kristian (I can’t get enough of his short fiction-inspiration to be found over there) offered some BRILLIANT ideas:

  • Abigail does become friends with Fenton, she knows some things about the town but like Fenton, she doesn’t know everything. However, she occasionally knows something unexpected that sets Fenton off in a different direction. Sometimes on a wild goose chase. Fenton sometimes wonders if she is actually deliberately misleading him.
  • How about Lyall’s Deeping? That’s just a suggestion. Deeping is a hollow, it is also an indicator of something hidden.
  • The town is a strange place. A lot of the big stores that blight other cities, like Walmart and Starbucks, cannot seem to get a foothold in this town. Walking into this town is a bit like going back 20 or 30 years. There are a lot of independent small stores and a quaint almost too-good-to-be-true feel of old-time nostalgia. People are neighborly and friendly, but up to a point. If outsiders try to get too close, the shutters come down hard.
  • The towns founding mother is Josephine Baker Lyall. A woman who founded the town to hide a family secret. Her father and she were great scientists who discovered some amazing things, but the cost of those discoveries had to be kept hidden. (How’s that sound?)
  • His Grandmother had a sister who disappeared in Lyall’s Deeping. She spent her life trying to find out what happened. The desk belonged to someone whose name she managed to trace. In the drawer is her sisters Diary.
  • The person who used to own the desk worked for the Lyall family.
  • How about Abigail turns out to be a Lyall. ?

So please check out the last Fenton Friday, comb through and offer up some ideas. This is a collaborative fictional writing project. I’m working (and saving) to get Fenton his own site. Something more fitting to hold episodes but for right now he has his own page here to call home. You can also help by sharing Fenton Friday’s so more artists, writers, anagram gurus and the like to chime in as well. If you would like to personally help with creating collaborative episode check out Fenton’s page and let me know what you can do to help.

 

6 Word Story: 7/13

I don’t really mind it being Friday the 13th but there are people I will have to work with that will hold tight to their superstitions. Going to try and do something different with today’s prompt with it being on the 13th. I just learned…it’s difficult to make a mystery out of 6 words.


Prompt Word: Locket

 

 

Fenton Friday: July Week 1

The first episode for Fenton has been posted and I can’t thank everyone enough that has helped with contributions and ideas. We introduced Fenton and the shopkeeper, the founder of the town-a craftsman, Abigail the shopkeeper, and the desk.

Questions are:

  • Is Abigail an important character? Does she become friends with Fenton? Does she offer valuable education about the town and or desk? Does she know the true secrets of the town?
  • We need a name for Fenton’s town. Something foreboding and mysteries. A hidden secret much like the contents of the drawer. A mystery to be solved. There are many town name generators but let’s come up with something awesome! A fitting for a town holding secrets.
  • What does the town look like? Is it busy? Is it small? Is it completely being bought out by big box stores and the desk/secret society hold the key to its survival?
  • The town’s founding mother-she needs a name. Does the town’s name have her name in it? Is it an anagram?
  • And why is Fenton purchasing a desk? Does his grandmother have anything to do with it? Is his grandmother, even though passed away, hold secrets?
  • Does the desk’s previous owner have any significance to the story? Is it a generational tradition?

I still needing help constructing the written episode (writers help!), copy editor (yeah, Grammarly only does so much for free), a possible anagram expert (if we go this route), and researcher.

I would also like to add some visuals to the posts. We need a desk. Picture or painting something mysterious and possible ominous looking. I would also like to add pictures of our made up town. This means-artists, doodlers, photographers, hobbyist you name it, submit a piece and voting will commence.

As always, submit in comments, by email, or form on the Fenton’s very own page. If you would like to help in a different way please share and reblog Fenton’s Friday project.

 

Fenton Friday-Week 4 Collaboration (last call)

Please be patient. I’m having to do this on my phone because of some utility worker’s mistake.

Wow, I can’t believe it’s the end of June (or the end approaching). I would like to thank everyone that has helped in the collaborative project adding a little bit of their time and imagination. My goal is to get the first ‘episode/post/installment’ of Fenton for everyone to read by July 1st.

Please read Fenton Project Updates and what was added so far to date and if you would like to add to our Fenton Project please do so either in the comments or email (really it’s whatever you are comfortable with).  Also, I’m still looking for a few individuals that would like to help put the final monthly pieces together. More explanations in previous posts listed:

I have to cut this short (utility worker talking to my husband and I’m going to go put my 2 cents in). Happy Fenton Friday everyone. I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with for Fenton’s first appearance.

Fenton Friday: Week Two Collaboration Project

Yes, Fenton Friday is here. I have been ridiculously busy here at work that I haven’t had much time for breaks to collect thoughts. I would like to thank a few bloggers for great suggestions:
Kristian
Stuart
The Ministry of Shrawley Walks
The Dark Netizen

What we started with:

Fenton buys this old desk that was on sale at a shop that is going out of business. He’s been using the desk for a few months when he discovers a hidden compartment. In the drawer is a document written in an unknown language. He takes it to a professor/friend/ researcher which has only seen a few symbols here and there but can’t confirm origin.  Fenton (and other characters that will be created along the way) form an odd group. While they are all working together they discover that the unknown language holds clues to a local unsolved mystery that hasn’t been touched in decades involving the disappearance of a secret society that founded his small town (read more about what we are trying to accomplish with hopefully a bright future for Fenton).

To recap what we have so far:

As for Fenton. I see his as a young man in his late teens or very early twenties, 18-21. He is bookish and rather retiring. Shy but he comes out of his shell when people start talking about books or history. He is studying for something, degree or diploma and works part-time for a bit of extra money. He goes to museums a lot. Thank you again, Kristian, for giving Fenton an age and personality. I think it will serve him well and add a great deal to his adventure and to the creation of new characters (psst, welcome aboard). And he is uncovering something of a secret drawer society brilliantly introduced by Stu (glad you’ll be joining us). There is a lot of detail and I could be sensing a little suspense possible murder mystery? Did the secret drawer society be the founding fathers of the town? Let’s see what we can come up with. I think we can also work in the idea that Shrawley Walks (the video clip had me laughing and people were looking as if I gone off my rocker, oh, and thanks for coming along) brought to the discussion of the French manor house flooring being replaced. What if the house he’s staying in is part of the society? Or did he by the desk from the estate sale of the society’s house? And with a nudge from the Dark Netizen all contributions are going to have a word count of 500 or less. If more is needed just let us know. Enough to give us your thoughts and ideas.

As for the reference to us, I am still in need of some volunteers that can help on a regular basis (just shoot me a message):

    • Researcher (someone to help me make sure the facts and other things are on point)
    • Copy Editor (yeah I’m not the best as you can tell from my posts)
    • Another Writer – or Two (quick honesty-there will be times that my CPTSD will kick me in the butt! Or even better-getting overwhelmed with all the contributions so help will be needed)

First Episode Goals:

  • Introduction of Fenton’s character
  • Place
  • Time (present/past?)
  • A little backstory
  • Publish date: July 1st

And as always you can comment here or send a message. Everyone is invited to help Fenton grow and tell his story. I know we can do this because we have an awesome blogging community. Happy Friday!

Infecting Impact

Thank you for tuning into Fox23 News this morning. We are continuing to cover the story of the situation in Impact, Texas. This is the last known transmission to come from the small town as of last night. What you hear may be disturbing to younger audiences.

911 Operator: 911, what’s the address of the emergency?
Caller: (Screams) Shh! Quiet! They’ll know we’re in here. {whispers} Yes, we need the CDC or military or something. The officer outside didn’t make it to the door. The street is a river of blood and very small footprints (inaudible crying) We’re at…(banging)
911 Operator: Sir, what is your location?
Caller: {whispers} Don’t send any more officers. We need bigger help. Melissa…shh shh shh.
911 Operator: Are you alone?
Caller: My wife and I are stuck in the house. We have towels shoved under the doors. I don’t think they’ve figured out that they can fit under the doors.
911 Operator: (screaming) Sir? (muffled yelling) Sir? What is your location?
Caller: Oh God! No no no no no shh-get upstairs (banging)
911 Operator: Sir? What is your location?
Caller: They’re in the house! They can camouflage! I don’t know where it went! Shhh (muffled crying). Melissa, it’s going to be ok baby.
911 Operator: Sir, is the intruder in the house?
Caller: {whispers} Yes, we are in the bathroom on the second floor. The window is facing the street. We live in the house on the corner of Roosevelt and Clinton.
911 Operator to Police Dispatch: Caller states that there is an officer down and I believe we have a possible breaking and entering in process. Please be advised the owners are in the home in the upstairs bathroom.
911 Operator: Sir, just stay in the bathroom, I have help arriving.
Caller: NO!! They won’t be able to see them. They blend into the ground or surroundings. I can’t even see them.
911 Operator: (muffled screaming and banging) Sir?
Caller: Melissa? Honey look at me! (gurgling) Mel! Oh God! (inaudible)
911 Operator: Sir?
Caller: (inaudible) The blood! She’s still alive and they are in her! I can see them moving around in her stomach! There’s blood everywhere! Oh god ple…
911 Operator: Sir, apply pressure to the wounds. Can you tell me what caused the wounds?
Caller: (gurgling)
911 Operator: Sir?
Caller: (gurgling) {faint clicking}
911 Operator: Sir, Are you there?
Call terminated by the caller at 22:36

Areas surrounding the town of Impact, Texas are now under quarantine. The national guard will be going to other towns to evacuate residents. If you are in the northern counties of Abilene, in the towns of Hamby, Hawley, Stith, and Tye you are in the quarantine zones. You are instructed to stay inside locked doors of your homes. DO NOT go outside until a National Guard escorts you out. Details of the situation as of 8am, Dyess AFB is ground zero. Individuals infected with these unidentified parasites, please isolate yourself from anyone else. If there is someone infected please call 911. Please stay tuned to local Fox23 for updating details.

Helen turned off the news and told her children to go and pack some clothes and their toothbrushes. She looked worriedly at Tatum.
‘Don’t worry sweetheart. We are in an evacuation town. We’ll get out in time.’ Tatum told his wife. Rumbling could be heard outside. Helen looked out the window to see the troops rolling in starting the evacuation process.
‘Oh thank the stars,’ she exclaimed. Tatum opened the door after a knock,
‘We’re almost ready,’ Tatum told the guard.
‘Sir, I have been informed to tell you that this town is now in the quarantine zone. Please stay inside. We will throw sandbags in front of your doors and bring rations.’
Tatum argued, ‘We just heard on the news that…’
The guard cut him off and leaned in, ‘Sir, the quicker you obey these orders the better your chance of survival.’
Tatum nodded. The guard brought MREs enough for a month worth of food for the entire family. Even diapers, water, formula, and coloring books were provided.
‘Yes, us that we live in a small enough town for such rations to be provided.’ Helen said while rolling her eyes that were starting to tear up.
‘It’s going to be ok,’ He told Helen as they could hear the weight of the sandbags hitting the door.

Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com


This was SO much fun for me to write (even though I’m supposed to be working but I had an idea and HAD to get it out) for Discover’s Prompt. The research for this small piece just fell right in with my idea. Could this be a series? Prequel? I don’t know but I had to start here.

Please don’t forget about the small writing contest that I’m trying (yup, I’ll have a one for the artists too). The deadline for that is May 30th for your 150-word submission.

Solitary Truth

A mystery is a subgenre of narrative fiction; often thought of as a detective story.There are a number of sub-genres within the broad category of mystery/detective/crime fiction. They overlap and are open to subjective interpretation. I’m not a fan of mysteries with the whole cop-whodunit scene. I don’t even like the good cop bad cop scenes. So I tried something different after doing a bit of research.


We all rarely seen the old woman out in town. We rarely saw her at all. The occasional sightings are when she’s in the local hardware store or at the grocery store to buy M&Ms. We never saw her buy meat, bread, fruits, or vegetables. She kept to herself in the house by the river with woods surrounding the structure at the end of town. She had honeysuckle growing wild which brought beautiful birds and butterflies but we never witnessed her outside enjoying them.  When she was outside it was to tend to her massive garden, fish in the river, or care for her mini orchard of the fruit-bearing trees.

Holidays she wouldn’t decorate and wouldn’t hand out candy. She wouldn’t go to town gatherings or parades. The elementary children thought her to be a witch and would be afraid to look her in the eyes.  Some adults thought she was the reason that people went missing in the town. She was even interviewed a couple of times by law enforcement as a last resort. I thought she was happy in her solitude until I had her go through my checkout line at the hardware store. Beep-fishing line, beep-lightbulbs, beep-nails, beep-vegetable seeds. ‘Is this all for you?’ Her eyes met mine and that’s when I witnessed a teary response. Was she sad? Was she thankful someone said something to her? She didn’t reply but paid for her items with gold coins. I haven’t seen those in a long time. I know that they make newer ones but these were the old coins. I asked for her to wait a minute as I spoke to the manager. ‘She pays with those because they are easier for her to count. Take however much you need and put them under the till. I exchange them at her bank the next town over. It’s the only bank that I find will take them.’ ‘Do you know anything about her? She doesn’t speak, she’s always alone, and today I think I made her cry,’ I said sadly. ‘No one really knows anything about her, she was one of the first people to live in the town.’

I took her coins and handed her bags over, ‘Have a good day,’  I said but she didn’t even turn to acknowledge my farewell. I left work that evening and decided to walk by the river on my way home. It was shorter and quieter since people think the old woman is cursed or does the cursing. The sound of the river was soothing until a sound of a massive current of electricity echoed through the woods. As if a transformer was being turned on for the very first time. As I walked past her house I noticed that she was flipping larget switches and lights were turning on around the house, through the woods, and by the river. It wasn’t just lighting up her house. ‘Hi,’ I waved over at her. She jumped and came over to where I was standing. ‘Hello, young lady.’ Her voice was soft and comforting. ‘You really need to get home before the sun finishes setting. I can’t help when the light is fully gone.’ I looked at her puzzled. ‘The sun has already set. It’s dark and now you’re lighting everything up.’ She begged. ‘Please get home, come see me tomorrow.’ I nodded and hurried home.

I couldn’t sleep that night and was at her house at first light. I thought I would wake her up but she was already on the river bank casting her fishing pole. ‘Good morning,’ I said timidly. ‘There’s a fishing pole against the tree that I have prepared for you. Come cast a line and see what happens.’ I grabbed the pole and noticed that there was already a fish on the hook.  I looked at her and she nodded for me to cast. I picked a spot and let loose the line. We both sat there is silence until my pole jerked. ‘You’re going to need to hold on, it’s going to be a big one,’ she said to me in a warning tone and about that time I was nearly pulled into the water. I look at her with a surprised-regretful look. She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. ‘It’s ok dear, at first I lost many poles after I lost my husband.’ She withdrew her rod and started walking towards her house. What did she mean about losing her husband and rods? She was married?

She opened the door for me to walk ahead of her in the house. She has a beautiful cottage style home. Her kitchen had a beautiful wood stove, wooden cabinets, and homemade bread dough rising on the back counter. ‘Sit down dear, I’ll tell you what you need to know.’ I sat down and she placed a teacup in front of me along with some homemade cookies. ‘My husband, Frank and I were the first to move to this town. He built this house with his own hands always reminding me that this is the perfect piece of land. He was excited to fish, garden, and live off the land. ‘Wow, how old are you?’ I instantly regretted the question. She smiled, ‘I’m old enough to watch this town grow from just a few settlers.’ ‘Settlers? The first settlers of the town arrived…’ I trailed off watching her sip her tea. ‘That means that you are..’ she interrupted. ‘I’m old enough to watch the town grow,’ she said slowly. I would like to show you how to survive this town and help others live there day to day lives. I’ve been protecting this town for decades. I’m getting tired and need to teach a young person. Someone who loves this town like I do and can handle being alone and misunderstood.’

I do like being left alone and I do love this small town. ‘What about my job?’ I couldn’t believe I was considering the proposal of learning whatever she was teaching. ‘This will be your job and you would never want for anything, ‘she said as she gestured at the surroundings. ‘Let me explain. When we settled here we thought we hit gold. The land was fruitful and no one around. We built our house and waited for neighbors but no one came. That’s when we learned of the secret the land held. The river is full of creatures that come on land as soon as the last glimmer of light is gone. Even though the sun is gone the last bit of light is gone 14 minutes after the set time. My husband and I learned this the 1st night we were here. We were able to set a fire which kept them at bay. We would fish for them and use them as fertilizer for our garden and trees. We thought after years of fishing they would be extinct. That night we didn’t light any fires. We sat outside enjoying tea and the stars when out of nowhere my husband was drug into the water. There was nothing I could do for Frank. I come from a long line of white witches and part of my promise was to protect this town and I cast a spell for me to live longer. Not be immortal but live long enough to fight these creatures. What I do know is that they live underwater and they breed faster than rabbits. All the missing person reports that you see are of people the creature took.’ I looked at her in disbelief. Before I could say anything she interrupted, ‘Go home and think about it.’

I was home before dark and I walked into an empty house. There was no life and no messages or voicemails, no plans, just me. I went to the internet and searched missing person reports for this town and discovered some that dated all the way back to the 1800’s. In those articles, I found a woman had been committed to a psychiatric hospital a town over for ranting about creatures from the water. I also found a picture of the town’s founders and our very own solitary woman that everyone judged was there, smiling. She was beautiful. The next morning I was over at her house. ‘I would love to protect this town but I would like to know one thing. What is your name?’ She smiled and gestured for me to enter the house, ‘my name is Elizabeth. Are you ready to make the transition?’ she asked. ‘I would be honored but I’m not a white witch and I don’t know how long I’ll live.’ I said. She sat down and clasped my hand, ‘My dear, when I said that you would inherit everything that includes my powers, the house, the money, my skills, and knowledge.’

Here I am, being judged as I’m buying fishing line 82 years later. The rumor is that the last hermit took me as her slave and now I’m looking for mine. Little do they know, my sacrifice keeps them and this town safe.

A Trunk’s Secrets

I finally finished the short story. This is my first stab at fiction without a prompt and although I think that there is room for improvement I am quite pleased with the turn that the story took. And thank you, Jules, for the inspiration and encouragement.


I was always afraid and curious about the wonderment the attic held. Being only seven, my little mind imagined great and terrifying things. From monsters to treasure the forbidden was occupied by fear. ‘Don’t go up there, you’ll get hurt,’ my grandmother would warn every holiday season when she had to fetch decorations. Until one day when she decided I was old enough to handle the ladder and the probable pain from falling or that’s what I assumed.

‘Jo, go up to the attic and grab the Halloween decorations,’ my grandmother called after me. Excited and terrified I burst through the screen door that led to the garage. This is where the attic entrance was housed. As I pulled on the cord that showed me the ladder, I gasped. That smell was oddly sweet, like family and dust. I slowly climbed the ladder and stared into the cave of darkness. I heard creaking and moaning and I learned that I can be quite fast when I wanted to be as I darted for the light switch.

The glow from the dim light on all the family treasures was mesmerizing. I could spend days on end up there opening every box and chest. There were colorful quilts draped over banisters, a full-length mirror that had a sheet over the front, an old rocking horse with matching wooden crib and plenty of boxes. What caught my eye was a glint of gold underneath old newspapers. I carefully gathered the crumbling papers and placed them on the floor. There an old trunk sat with huge brass hinges and a weathered leather handle. The trunk was a green colored metal with dings and scratches all over. You can tell the trunk has traveled but no proof of it on the exterior.

My grandmother always told me curiosity killed the cat and if I knew then what I know now I would’ve never opened that trunk. Inside were baby clothes but only one set. I thought, ‘where are the rest of my clothes?’ It was a tiny small pink lacy dress and hand crocheted matching baby booties, still soft. Under the clothes was a baby blanket and for some reason, I thought it was familiar like I’ve seen it before. Full of colors and patterns held a sweet smell of perfume but not my grandmothers. Under the quilt were pictures of a pregnant woman with a little girl posing by a Christmas tree. Then another picture of a man kissing the woman. There were many other family photos but not my family. I thought that maybe it was someone that I haven’t met yet that I was related to like a long lost aunt and uncle. Under all of that was a newspaper with the headline, “Couple Murdered, Infant Baby Girl Missing.”

‘That isn’t the box with the decorations.’ I turned and there was my grandmother with the blackest eyes I have ever seen her have. She wasn’t angry with me and what I had opened, but I didn’t feel safe around her anymore either. She came and sat next to me and carefully took the paper out of my hands. ‘Whatever you’re thinking you’re going to be half right. All I’m going to say is that I love you like you’re my own.’ She squeezed my shoulder and put everything back in the trunk. I grabbed the box of decorations and went downstairs. We never talked about that day in the attic and I never went up there again while I lived there.

Later I learned that my grandmother and grandfather were the people who murdered my parents. My grandmother wanted a grandchild so bad but her and my grandfather never had kids. I learned so much about the people who raised me, gave me everything I ever wanted, showed me right from wrong and offered unconditional love. They even put me through college with stolen money. I found all this out when I went back into the attic as part of packing up the house when they passed away. I took the trunk and read everything in it from newspaper articles to my grandmother’s journals. I also learned I wasn’t the first baby they tried to take and by the time they were ready they could only take me. The story went as: their daughter got pregnant outside of wedlock and died during birth so they took me in. My real family was brutally murdered after they brought me home. My grandparents had been stalking my parents for months. The only two people that survived that night was my sister and me. I’ve never met my sister. They didn’t take her because she was sleeping and during the whole murder, they decided to leave her and let her sleep. The only witness that couldn’t identify them because she never woke or cause trouble during the kidnap.

The fear was not the attic, it’s what was in the attic. The pain wasn’t from falling off the ladder but what was in the trunk. The trunk didn’t travel, it was battered from the truth.

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