The Attic

Inside the old house, at the top of the stairs, Emma reached up and pulled down the ladder that lead up to the attic. She felt like a little kid snooping for hidden Christmas presents.

Safely inside the attic, even though she doubted anyone would care that she was up there, Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

Emma tuned out the musty smell of old moth balls and excitedly began her search for something worth searching for.

Time flew by as she went from box to box, mostly ending in disappointment. So far she had found way too many Christmas decorations, A nice Easter bonnet, a pink bath robe, both of which she now wore, and books.

"Where's the good stuff?" She wondered out loud. Then shuffling some boxes around she saw one that said JUNE written on the side of it. Emma stopped. June was her mother's name. The box either contained some stupid Summer lawn ornaments, or it was stuff belonging to her mother. Grief and tears welled up inside of her.

Emma timidly opened the box and poured through it's contents. It was mostly old clothes from when her mom had been young. But at the bottom of the box, Emma found a small diary.

Emma sat on a sturdy box, closing the bathrobe over her outfit, and began to page through her mother's words.

The first half of the book was pretty dull. Doodles of flowers and entries about school and the occasional crush filled the pages. Nothing steamy or even a bit scandalous.

"Oh, mother, you were always so boring," Emma said to no one, then felt immediately guilty for speaking ill of her recently passed mother as she invaded her privacy. But not guilty enough to stop.

Reading on, Emma finally started to get to something more interesting:

With mother gone, father has been drinking more. His moods are dark so very often. He spends all his time in the study and Maude has to bring him his supper.

Emma knew that her grandmother passed when her own mother was just a child. Emma never heard many stories of her or her grandfather and felt a bit sad, having never gotten to meet either of them.

Emma found a later entry and read on:

Father has become downright vicious. Maude seems to think I worry too much. She says I'm weak and should toughen up. Those two are always in the study now. I feel so alone.

Emma adjusted the Easter hat and looked for a later entry:

Dear Diary,

Father no longer goes to work. I'm not even sure he sleeps. He hasn't left the study in days. Maude won't let me see him. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm too afraid to stay. This is my last entry, Diary. Wish me luck.

"Damn," Emma said. She knew that her mom had left home at an early age, but she thought it was in her late teens. What the hell happened in this place?

Emma removed her Easter hat and the pink bathrobe. Setting them back in the appropriate box she decided she was done snooping around the attic.