The Attic

My t subscribe had been set and so with trepidation, I gingerly climbed the ladder that take to the attic. I balanced on the coer version rung of the ladder and flung open the freeze door. The door crashed against the diirt blackened floorboards loudly. The musty musical note hit me, as a discompose of the dust cascaded onto my head. I carefully leve rosy myself up onto the floor above me.I looked just about the peculiar room to follow up beckoning shadows on the walls, as daylight tried to permeate through a worn curtain, which graced the nongregarious window in the room. I stumbled in advance in the half-light, my outstretched hands grabbing a low beam to steady myself. The woodwind instrument felt gritty and cold to a lower place my fingers and I looked at my hands, which were this instant blanketed in grime.I walked carefully to the end of the man-sized attic room, and drew spikelet the attenuate red smooth curtain, which stretched crosswise the lilliputian wind ow. The light violated the darkness, and dispelled the gloom. The room was instantaneously really quite entrancing, the task of cleanup spot the room, which I had initially perceived to be a horrible chore, had flat off into a beautiful privilege. I gazed at the room that was cluttered with memorabilia of a done for(p) era.Under the window stood an oval, walnut coffee tree table. On its dusty and worn go on stood several ornaments. I bent mess and carefully picked up a gray-headed figurine. I blew on it and the dust flew away. It was a white porcelain statuette that I without de specify held it was a delicate figurine of a ballet dancer. The ballerina was with her slender brocaded arms stood on points and her beauty contrasted with her dusty surroundings. I gently and with reluctance dictated her grit on the tableI looked over the walls. They were painted yellowish once, hardly instantly they were a dull scan. I walked over to the wall and ran my hand over the rough surface a impenetrable layer of dust lay on my hand. Disgusted, I wiped my hand against my thighs of as I had worn my old jeans. The wall now had a scurvy track of where I had removed the dust, a light yellow contrasted against the tedious cream.I looked up to see the spiders crawl over the beams, they were now the occurrent tenants of this once beautiful place. The webs spread across from one corner of the room to the other.I lowered my eyes and my gaze met a picture that hung askew on the moth-eaten wall. It was a painting of a horse, with a glossy cloudy brown rise up that stared back at me. I looked at the surroundings in the picture, with its familiar red bricks and rose bushes, and I recognised it, as my back garden. I approached the painting to stir up a better look and screwed into the wooden frame was a brass brass engraved with High Princess- 1843. I smiled and entertained my attention the double pushchair that seemed so out of place, as antiques surrounded it.I rec alled the days of when I was once sit down in the double pushchair with William, my brother. Memories flew back to me, memories of sitting there with ice cream trickling down my chin, as Will and I happily watching the world go by. Now it stood there, the navy blue temporal paler and worn, the once polished metal now rusted but the memories are as vivid as yesterday.I stood to exit, and the floorboards creaked beneath my feet, footprints left from where I had been inspecting the ornaments that lay in the room. I headed towards the trapdoor to go and inform my parents on what I had found in our now amazing attic.But something caught my eye, a footling stonery encase. I was drawn to it I walked towards it and picked it up. It was an ornately carved rosewood box from India. I opened the box carefully to reveal a green velvet lined interior. Inside laid foreign interchanges of jewelry. I held an emerald necklace, the heavy strange jewel amazed me by its rich deep colour. I place d it carefully back down on its velvet cushion to pick up another piece of jewelry. A ring. A ruby lay in its centre I delight in rubies, as they are my birthstone and had to remind myself to ask Dad if I could have it. erst again, I replaced it. I looked out of the small window that lay behind me and apothegm that the sun was beginning to get low. I had to leave this room, which had intrigued me for hours. I knew I would parry and I knew that at my next encounter there would be even much revelations awaiting me.