The Faded Attic

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 22:40:06 -

The Faded Attic

I woke with the taste of dust on my tongue. The ceiling was cracked. A spider web caught the weak morning light. It hung like a silver thread. I was not in my bed. I was in the attic of the old mill. The one we tore down last month. I knew this was a dream. I knew I should be in my office. I should be typing. But the air here was thick. It smelled of wet wood and old paper. I sat up. My head...

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