9 Days Before [2nd Draft]

P.4

Vem, inside the attic can hear the ghost of lingering footsteps down below. Its echo entices him to push himself further into the darkest corner of this dimly lit space.

The small window casting rays on the hard wooden floor plasters a vibrant screen, having nearby branches shadow puppeting within its small frame.

Tap tap tap.

Vem hears them again, following along the silent conversation down below. He can hear a lot up here like a megaphone: Every sound intensifies, having the faintest of sounds being rearranged to the highest of tones.

Thud thud. The other guard responds to his partner's tapping.
The other partners' response seems to be on the lower level still, right at the edge of the stairs it sounds like. he pieces it together inside his head, visualizing it.

Thud — Another singular foot placement.
The shadow of the tree shivers, making a rumbling static outside the walls. Its movement brings Vems' gaze to the window.

There's a moment of weakness, a moment where he sees a silhouette of a figure standing on a large branch staring right back at him.

An ominous fatigue settles on the back of his neck, This feels off—way off in fact that it's bringing him back to the very first day, with what he saw before his door got violently slammed shut.

Movement within the house dropped silent, not even the guards' pitter patter of communication can be heard.

Faint goosebumps polka-dotted across his cheeks making the edging of his beard stand tall, then it moved around the surface of his eyelids forming up and over them, with the feeling meeting between his eyebrows.

Having the Silhouette still standing on the branch, motionless in a gaze.

Within the motionless time, Vem gives in and tears his gaze away, trying to hear or sense the presence of the guards down below. However it might make him reconsider as his vision looks at the window, the frozen frame of the glass spells out a language unknown. Although it's unknown to Vem, his heart begins to race.

The spelling on the window vanishes with the cold breeze of the wind, vanquishing it away with frozen fingers of frost.

His senses begin to dull — Sight begins to fade within his peripherals. The dusted light beaming from the window tinges with a different hue. It's a ray of thick sheeted nothingness, yet with the little vision he has left he could still see that this beam is still emitting shadows within its body.

These shadows were the reflection of 'real-time' lighting, the same color/ the same realistic tone of staring into an open flame. It's as if the shadow and objects switch places with one another.

With the only realistic reflection of the world being the moonlit screen on the attic floor.

[I don't see anyone up here…] a faint voice echoed into existence.

[Didn't you say you heard movement up here?] It occurred again. The voices are in the attic, but it sounds like it's coming from outside the house.

An echo of footsteps stops on Vems' location.
[I feel the creeps just being up here..]

A ghastly noise ricocheted inside the attic with a slight humming co-existing with it. Vems' neck hair sparks. The familiar gooseflesh appeared, confirming to the one he felt that rainy day.

[What was that just now…?]

[ I didn't hear anything, might just be your senses toying with you. ]