Andrew Wyeth
” Go on in, ” he dared me. ” I’m telling you there isn’t anyone in there. I would know. ”
We were headed up the stairs to the attic, where it was dry, free of cobwebs , old trunks and cracked mirrors and furniture covered with dusty sheets.
Besides. If there had been sheets on anything, they wouldn’t have been crisp white sheets. The sheets that our Mother would have used would have been the ones she didn’t want or need anymore. She would have used sheets with faded flowers, bleached and aged stripes and baby animals nestled against their Mothers.
My brother reached the top of the stairs first and he turned around and looked down at me. ” Nobody is up here. I’m telling you. Nobody would bust into our house and hide in the one place they wouldn’t be able to get out of. ”
I brushed passed him and said before I pushed the door open, ” People.”
He was wrong about one thing, there was a table in the attic now and around it were some chairs. The lights were on too.
” Well, somebody was up here. ” I told my brother.
” They aren’t here now. Listen. Do you hear anything? ”
I told him I did not.
” Do you smell anything. ”
I stepped into the room, I took a sniff.
I nodded and my brother followed me into the room at the top of the stairs, the empty, cool room and as careful as a nervous parent checking on their sleeping baby I peeked around the door.
” There you are. There you are. ” I kicked the door shut with my heel and then the lights went out.
But I could see the room and the figures behind the door huddled against the wall just fine.
Perfectly fine.
Enduring Bones H’ween Challenge#8
