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Writer's pictureMermaid Atargatis

Adam in the Attic



 

Suddenly, a light so bright came on above and I wanted to scream from fright but I was startled silent instead. Then, for a few seconds…awed at the same time. If I had never seen a light turn on before how would I know what to call it? For your clarity, a light. On my side it was an odd shaped bright being from beyond. Did I die? Did I implode. With both hands I felt my body up and down just to check. Nope. Still here.

In one piece. Breathing no doubt.

I’ve been here as long as I can remember, locked in the dark, feeling my way around and around the five-walled room day after day. It was a peculiar designed room not necessarily ergonomic. A void. I took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust with this egg of white yellow orange light above my little head. Seeing the place, this enclosure, for the first time I couldn’t resist the urge to explore again like it was all brand new. But I still needed to feel my way, like I had done all this time. Even though it was now well-lit, I still had to feel my way, use all my senses. Smell, touch, feel, hear and of course sight! Only sometimes, in the pale light from the tiny diamond shaped window on one end, did I know where to step, and where to fall. From my corner bed where I jumped on the floor I could now see the decorative pattern of carpet before me. Putting my eyes as close as I could to the swirls of gold and blue against a red background, a place I often found crumbs. The fringe on the ends I knew. This overlapped another carpet, boring in brown, stretching to the window.

Circling my eyes in a clockwise pattern I noticed the tall bookcase first. It’s butter cream-colored shelves against the weathered wood of the slanted roof standing out for me, its contents to clearly see. The bottom shelf held two boxes, both taped shut as I had felt and tugged at before. A row of books took up the next shelf yet I still could not read the titles. Mostly old worn brown binding with gold lettering. A collection I imagine. The next shelf up had a few more books different than the others stacked up short next to a stuffed bird, black and sleek. A raven? Not real I don’t think. It was something that frightened me on certain days when the reflection from the outside shown in its eyes. He was not so terrible under this blaring bulb giving off heat, I noticed missing feathers from his wings next to some on his tail that were obviously reglued. It perched on a stand of counterfeit grass hosting a gravestone. For whom I do not know. Next to him was a basket and what it contained should be alarming me but I smelled it made of plastic the first time I found it. Piles of bones which now I see as several creatures thrown together, intertwined. The skeleton of an oversized snake, wings on a bat, possibly a frog, that is all I can tell. What odd things to collect. Cardboard boxes aligned the next shelf open and overstuffed with ribbon and fabric of all colors and shimmers. Tucked in the corner of that shelf was a silver tray of burgundy beads. The top shelf displayed black iron candle holders, no candles. I could smell their past and feel their texture dripped dry along their edges. Now I could see what color each had burned.

Next to the shelf was a soft blue bin about 3 foot high full of blankets folded waiting for when I need to stay warm. It contained quilts of all colors, greens, yellows, purple, blues. I knew the seasons by now. An old pipe passageway through the celling in the other corner let water in but gave no way out. Sometimes the water was warm, often times it was cold. Other times it was frozen, or snow. Next to the blue bin was a wooden table, some kind of contraption with a foot pedal to create the things people do. A giant armoire, chestnut with antique brass handles presented next to the table. A place I’ve played before in with big swinging doors and clothes hanging inside many sizes too big.

Standing next to the armoire was a mannequin in a pink bonnet and deep red cape and it wasn’t until I got a better look did I see the faceless wore a mask that sent shivers down my spine. A dog? A wolf? Big eyes and great fangs gleamed white from under the hat that portrayed nothing but a shadow before. Where was it’s gaze? Beyond me and frozen in time. In its human hand dangled half faces, shiny thin masks whose empty eyes I’ve averted on occasion when I dared look to see the nothingness looking back at me.

Scattered across the floor underneath the life-size creature was small boxes, overturned, spilling out the contents. Rolling out onto this area and lining the wall were markers of every shade, pens, paintbrushes and pencils, a ruler, stapler, erasures and paint tubes. Dust bunnies and cobwebs delighted in the playground of solid shapes and I steered clear of there for fear of spiders. Other spiders made their presence known with their web in the tall corner of the crawl space above the small door on the floor, or behind the other table overturned with a broken leg. Being hidden by the shadow of the table was a chest, locked, with antique looking keyhole. I’ve tried peeking many times and can only find the smell of aging paint and paper. Several photo frames leaned on the wall nearest me and now I could see the intricate detail of their design. Some with leaves other with lines, borders of gold green and brown. Almost done making my way around the room the light was gone as fast as it appeared.. And for that brief moment I had something to measure my life by.

I stood in the center of the room taking another look in the dim as my eyes adjusted once again watching the glooms of grey overcome the last splashes of color so quickly.

Before I could move the light turned back on surprising twice in such a short time. This time the little door leading down somewhere below swung open and a voice was heard yelling, “Yay! It is finally time for Halloween!” And suddenly someone burst through the floor door and on their knees began rummaging through the boxes.

Me, still standing froze in the center of the room I watched a little young boy look curiously over at me before screaming, “MOM there’s A MOUSE!”

Before he could jump up and run,

I bowed and said, “No, my name is Adam.”

Chris B.

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