The Attic...an extract of my boyhood

The Attic

Many of the dusty cold rooms were empty, although some, containing boxes of spilled and pillaged storage were still reasonably clean but most were damp and sordid with peeling yellow walls. The smell of musk and dampening mildewed paper invaded every audible heartbeat as I crept stepping in time with all of my wildest nightmares and worst imaginings. The blue black light beyond was my goal as I tremulously inched toward the small garret window that would open and lead me out and up on to the roof where sweet dark sky and icey stars awaited accompanied by the glistening rain. How I longed to be once more into that fresh tingle that joyous midnight air to see and hear the clatter of the shipyard night shift at the river and the distant factory flame lit like Christmas reminders of the real world, a safe world, where no bogey man could exist and boys would live to fight another day.