The Attic

Chapter 14 The Attic.

There was a calling toward the door, the frozen air sparked frost, dancing around the entry, dancing toward me. Like a hand being held out for me to touch it with trust, and comfort. 
" Find me" the haunting voice that I have come to know. I looked around, the whisper of a voice bounced all around me. Breaking off every bit of wall and shattering around my ears. I took a shy step toward the swinging attic door, squeaking as the frosted air beats against it. Pushing it open the cold growing the closer I got. Ice forming up the old wooden stairs, icicles hanging from the rail. The bitter breeze was stronger as it flowed from the attic, down the stairs, and to my face. It was quiet, almost too quiet up the stairs. Even though the air was frost, biting my face, there was a warm glow coming from the attic, an orange light that seem to warm the top of the stairs. The icy ground was makings its way through the bottom of my house slippers. My feet cramping from the cold breaking its way to my nerves and bones. Even though fear was the only thing hot that was running in my blood, I knew this was something that I had to do. I took a deep breath, so deep it made my lungs choke on the overflow of air that I was trying to take in. The ache in my lungs made me cough for a moment, the cool air make it easy to find my breathe. I moved to each step, taking a settle breathe with each footstep. Ice chipping off the railing as my fingers brush pass, the crack echoed up the stairs as the ice shatters across the frosty stairs. The end of my nose felt numb from the frost that continued to nip at my face. The warm glow began to grow brighter, my eyes squint from how bright the warmth was. The ice that once covered the stairs was beginning to turn to cold water, my nose began to tingle from the warmth that wrapped around the frosty bites. A sweet, gentle voice softly sang "One day in May, I'll come to say, Happy the bride that the sun shines on today, what a wonderful wedding there will be,  What a wonderful day for you and me, Church bells will chime, you will be mine, In apple blossom time," I peaked over the last stair to see where the sad sweet voice was coming from. My mother had her music player in the living room. This didn't sound like a record, but someone upstairs singing. A voice that sounds familiar but so much different. A woman stood there, a soft white glow around her. My heart stopped, when I realized it was the woman from the woods, and all the chilling dreams. Adaline McIntire. Her voice filled with life, her face warm. She wore a pencil shirt with a tucked in shirt. Her hair half up her face showed a bit of color. She was staring out the window, the longing in her face could be felt inside of my heart. The stair creaked when I tried to get a better look, I couldn't believe the sight that I was seeing. Adaline looked up at me, her lips red of lipstick. She looked so alive, yet her eyes seem lost, and hopeless, Without stopping she continue to stare as me and sing" One day maybe in May Oh I'll come to you and say dear.." a brief pause, the sadness overtaking her as she squeaked out "Happy the bride that the sun shines on today." She looked back out the window, before I could speak, she vanished. The ice the bitter cold vanished with her. I was sitting across the stairs in the pitch darkness. The only light was guided by the window. I saw a little flicker behind the truck where Adaline was sitting. I pushed myself off the stairs and walked toward the flicker that shadow against the open walls. I was thankful I was shorter and didn't have to bend over as much. The ceilings were decently tall for an attic space. I peered over the trunk, there stood a candle with a flame dancing from the silence of the air. There was a single breath of a draft, how could this flame be so wild.  I watched the flame, as if it held all the stories of the world. Every bounce ever flicker held my attention. Memorized by the magic the was held so tightly within the flame. I saw Adalines face, alive, and happy. Such a beautiful doll she was. Her hair half pulled back, letting the rest in curls. Bright red lipstick painted so finely. A pale yellow gingham dress with a ruffled peter pan collar, its exactly how I would vision the 1940's. She was riding her bike on the very path that I use to walk to town. She's singing on top of her lungs, as she legs peddled her fast. "Darn that dream" by Mildred Bailey. I recognized the song from mother's records. She looked so happy, as if she were floating on a cloud whisping her any which way she pleased. I saw her racing down the dirt path, gravel smokes following behind her. She would lift her head up closed her eyes  her arms reaching the sky as her legs kicked to get the bike moving and keeping balanced. 
she arrived in front of her house, my house now. It also looked so alive so new. The coats of fresh paint hung nicely on the wood, the grass green as what I dream of Ireland. Birds were soaring high singing along with Adaline. Music blared out of the house windows, trumpets and clarinets dancing together in this fun moving melody. I could feel myself smiling within the flame, what a life, so loud and free. Adaline bounced off her bike and ran around the house to the garden that stood there today.