Hello! This is a little piece I wrote recently that may eventually become an excerpt from a book that I may write some time. 🙂 Enjoy!
The light of the single match filled the dingy, rather putrid attic. Unfortunately, the attic of this mansion, which dated back to the late 1800s, had no electricity installed. Unlike the newly updated main floors of the richly spacious house.
With my flickering match, I lit the wick of the single candle I had smuggled from my great-grandmother’s “emergency supply”. Throughout the room, the minut light penetrated, casting shadows and giving the attic an eery, haunted appearance. Despite the uneasiness that slithered through my spine, I felt a sense of calling…a calling to explore the mysterious and forgotten contents of the room. As I began to walk into the attic’s dark depths, I pondered why I was supposed to search this attic. And for what? The only sights my eyes beheld consisted of rickety furniture coated in blankets of dust. I coughed and wheezed rather violently, the thick air making breathing nearly impossible. “Having sensitive lungs doesn’t help much.” I thought to myself as I began another round of body-wracking coughs and slowly made my way through cobwebs and mothballs.
Suddenly my eyes were drawn towards the darkest corner of the attic. Oddly enough, light with no source began to reveal a book shelf. The only book shelf I had laid eyes upon since I had begun my search. I had never beheld anything like it. It was not your ordinary bookshelf, in fact, at first I had not even realized that it was. This odd bookshelf had doors. Doors of the deepest and strongest red imaginable. The kind that sent chills through my petite bones. The beauty of the shelf was found in the unusual golden designs, swirling and curving in every direction. The shade of gold was magnificent. It shone as magically as the light overhead and was a million times brighter than the sun. The gold sent warmth rushing through my soul, unlike the coldness of the sickly, however, royal red. But I must admit, that without the red, the gold would appear as any color should, for the red enhanced it’s beauty. I longed to reach out and stroke this magnificent piece, but did not for fear of what might become of me if I did. On the doors of the bookshelf was a lock, one matching the colors and detail of the shelf, and bore the same beauty. Without my telling them, my hands suddenly reached out and tested the lock. Unfortunately enough, it would not budge. I sighed, greatly disappointed in my misfortune until, with delight, I looked down at my feet to see a rusty hammer lying there. My first thought was to take the hammer and bust the lock, revealing the contents of the shelf, but the idea was quickly dismissed as I noticed what lay beside the hammer. A book. A single book. I picked it up, surprised at the small weight of it, open-mouthed with awe at the designs of the worn cover. A shield, in which a lion was etched. A lion, not just any lion, but a lion like I had never seen; nonetheless pictured. In fact, words can not describe the feelings that rushed over me like tidal waves as I gazed at it’s magnificence. I gradually opened the cover, expecting to see yellow pages and mythically-fonted writing. But the book bare no pages. For it was hollow. My eyes could not believe the sight of what lay in the emptiness of this hollow book. Never in a million years………..