The Faded Attic

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2026-08-20 10:41:17 -

The Faded Attic

The fire started in the rafters. It was not a spark. It was a scream. Wood split. Smoke poured. Black and thick. It tasted of copper. Of old blood. I looked up. The ceiling groaned. I looked at him. Thomas stood by the door. His face was pale. His hands were shaking. "You see it?" he whispered. I saw it. The flames licked the beams. They danced. They reached for my face. I felt a pull. A hook...

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