Lily crept up the stairs into the attic, quiet and gentle. She pulled out the key she took from her mothers jewelry box and inserted it in the time worn key hole. Dust scattered across the floor as the door swung open into the desolate loft. There were many boxes, some open and others closed, hidden in the shadows. Lily walked past these, heading for a tall, daunting object with a tarp covering. Lifting the veil of sorts, she saw only her own reflection before returning to the attic door, locking it till her mother left again the next day.
About the Creator
Mason Walters
As a kid I dreamed of worlds where magical powers exist and nations are constantly in power struggles. When I became a Christian, I realized I wanted to devot my ideas to the Lord and here I am writing them down. Writing is a fun art!
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Echoes of Creation
The stairs of the granite stone edifice were warm and slick, dripping with the murky water of muddy trotters. Sotiras slurped in the air, oblivious to the medley of rain and blood-filled sweat that was soaked into his tattered fleece. The Dark Ones were beating their animal hide drums with fervor, spreading the cacophony of red reverberations to the minds of spectators, consuming them with an eager manic buzz. With each step of Sotiras’ cloven hooves, the Dark Ones hollered and cursed him. If not for the roar of soft thumping made by The Father’s tears as they spattered the stone, the clamor would have consumed him. Each step came with a buckle in his legs, yet he never faltered from his steady pitter-patter up the void path.
By Mason Walters3 years ago in Fiction
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