A Little Light

Adam

Adam

Rummaging around the attic as its creaking floorboards announce trepidation in curious footsteps, meandering through forlorn boxes and languishing cobwebs for a lost relic, a memento depicting a faded image.

The waxing gibbous moon paints a milky gloss upon the remainder of the room, it’s not much, but it’s a little light to stroke the walls that have cracked and breached from the ardour of their unnoticed support.

A faint, untraceable scurrying permeates the silence as unmissable bristling washes over an unprepared epidermis, follicles shiver and the heartbeat quickens as the eye delights in an extemporaneous scan, over a barren, twilight cardboard landscape.

Outside trees reach towards their neighbours as anchored silhouettes wait in guard, while looming clouds crackle and stir. The brittle pane that breaks the dim setting is the first to blister as the stampede proceeds.

A rupture in the sky interspersed with a rapturous roar and the view of the street is blurred from the inexorable pour, broken as a midnight torrent by the faint flash of an ensuing bolt, errant, as the roof bears the brunt.

The moon seeped in to chaperone the rain as the dusty photo frame caught the ethereal light and its painted surface sprung to life, with a silver lining in its cracked lines, a forgotten, neglected time seemed just like yesterday.

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