Attics (re-post)

10016attic

I have the wrong kind of family. The wrong house. The wrong relatives.
I need an attic. Not a dusty one only visited by an occasional squirrel. Nothing but hot wood smell and bits of old paper
I need a real attic ~with trunks and old costumes and mysterious sounds and a looking glass they keep covered – just in case.
And – most of all – diaries
of the fascinating
of scandals
of inventions
of treasure
Where is the hidden masterpiece? Where is the priceless china?
I have seen antiques roadshow, (TWICE) I know how this is supposed to work.
Maybe its this set of old mismatched plates? I know it says IKEA…..but maybe that’s just to fool the less intrepid.
What about this old gas station map?
Under it maybe there are olde worlde directions for the gold
with a curse
“Eternally cursed be those who disturb my rest…”
Wait! Was that a mysterious moaning? No, only a tree branch.
Where is the pendant at the bottom of the trunk under rustling satin? Rubies, emeralds the size of pigeons eggs…
(Its always the size of a pigeon egg. that’s the rule.)
No letters? Not a one?
No secret drawers?
No hint scratched in wood?
No passageways?
No bottle to be rubbed?
NO WARDROBE?!?
We need to move.

 

 

 

 

 

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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9 Responses to Attics (re-post)

  1. Angela says:

    Great post! I love these words: “I know it says IKEA”.

  2. bejamin4 says:

    This is really great–feels ripe with childhood longing and hope. It feels like a nice piece of flash fiction. The opening line is catchy and all of it really is as well.

  3. PigLove says:

    I’m with you. Attics are cool. Do you have a basement? Maybe there’s a box down there that’s been left untouched for years and years holding a crap load of money? 🙂 XOXO – Bacon

  4. Eilish Niamh says:

    I love this post. Just the sort of things a kid would search for while her parents were looking at a potential house. If you don’t have a basement, try the closet under the stairs. 🙂

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