Toys in the Attic
Four things about the attic stood out above all others: the creaking of old warped boards, decades of dust, powder fine and covering everything, the smell of mothballs, and the dark.
In the dark there was no play, only the long silence and stillness where they would lean against each other, backs to the big toy chest that had been their mother’s when she was a child. In the dark they pretended they were dolls, just two more toys in the attic. Beth and Jamie: Raggedy Ann and Andy.
Sometimes the long darkness was broken by sleep, dreams of the daylight, the outside. Often there was no sleep. Sometimes the silent scratching of little claws broke the silence. Rats, or perhaps monsters.
If they were lucky, the sound of a springing trap would mean food the next day. Th
