There are footsteps in the attic.
Sometimes they are my mother’s footsteps when she was young, light and quick over the creaky floorboards.
Sometimes they belong to my father, heavy and menacing.
Sometimes they are thunderous and rowdy, as if everyone I have ever met are collected there, having a grand party.
Sometimes they are quieter, taking care not to disturb me.
Sometimes I feel their vibrations throughout the whole of the house.
Sometimes they are only echoes of themselves through the corridors.
But, always, there are footsteps in the attic.
About the Creator
B.T.
It wouldn't do not to see...
Vale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
By Matthew Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Yvonne M. I entered a challenge with the Medium Writers and Vocal Creators Support Group. The challenge was to chose two writers from "Writers We're Loving" on the Vocal home page, write an article highlighting their work and submit it to Vocal for publishing. I chose you as my first writer and wrote a review of your poem, "Footsteps in the Attic", then wrote a brief intro to your story :"Darwin" and posted the links in my artile. You can click on my picture on the left and read the article if you want to I hope you dont mind my featuring your work. It was superlative!
I can relate to this touching poem. Those people who have gone before us leave a footprint/handprint, soul print of themselves for us to sometimes feel. Attics that hold old relics and memories are likely places to feel their presence. Well done!