Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/866880-The-Attic
by spidey
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #866880
a short ghost story, written for a contest.

“The Attic”

All I can ever remember was this room. I’ve been here for a really long time. This was always my favorite room of our house - the attic. I used to play here with my little brother all the time, but I don’t see my brother anymore. We would play pretend, and I would be the beautiful princess, and he would be the brave knight. But I have no one to play with now. I’m stuck in this room. I died in this room.

I don’t remember the attic ever being bare, like it is now. It was filled with all sorts of treasures; trunks filled with costumes and all our old toys. We drew treasure maps in this room, we had so much fun here. There was this giant dollhouse that used to belong to my grandmother, then my mother. Mommy said I was too young to play with it, but someday it would be mine. I used to sneak up to the attic to play with the little dolls, and dream of when the dollhouse would belong to me.

But now it’s completely bare and dusty. Little by little, the toys disappeared from the attic, after I died. My brother stopped playing up here, after I tried to play with him. He was up here in the attic, and he was looking through the trunks for a costume. I called out to him, wanting to join. He got really scared and never came back to the attic. I didn’t try to play with anyone in my family after that. My parents only came up here to take things away, and soon I didn’t have any toys anymore. One day, they cleaned out the entire attic, and then I never saw them again.

The sun comes in through the single window. Sometimes I stand at the window and look out at the world. My mind plays tricks on me, though, and I usually only see what it looked like when I was alive. Kids from the neighborhood would play along the streets together. Everyone was happy. After I died, one by one the kids grew up. Now there are no kids in the neighborhood.

From time to time, strange people would visit me. One dressed up lady would show the room to a couple, or a family. She would tell them all about the large space, and how you could store things here. I always got excited, especially when they had kids with them. I wanted to have my toys back. They never stayed, though. I’ve been lonely for so long.

Today, I got new visitors, my first in a very long time. It was two men. They came into the attic, and looked around. They seemed very serious, not like the others who had visited. One man started talking to the other. I didn’t understand everything they said, but I caught a few words, like “torn down” and “dilapidated.” I don’t know what they mean, but I feel very sad. I’m so lonely, and I would love to have my dollhouse back.
© Copyright 2004 spidey (spidergirl at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/866880-The-Attic