~Ch 3~
Melanie felt as though she were sneaking into forbidden territory as she climbed the dark, musty stairs to the attic. She didn't understand why she felt this way, it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong, at the same time, she wasn't sure what to expect. She turned the doorknob at the top of the stairs and swung open the heavy door with a creak. She stepped away from the door as she turned on the flashlight, since it was dark and no daylight was coming through the windows. She looked around at the many, maybe even a hundred, boxes, unsure of where to start. She sighed, and realizing this was going to take a while, decided to start in the far corner, and work back towards the door.
* * * * *
Several hours she was hot dusty, and felt as if she were getting nowhere. Deciding to stop for awhile she started to head downstairs to take a shower when a particular box had caught her eye. It was hidden behind boxes marked 'Kitchenware' and old and taped up. She pulled the box out into the middle and slowly peeled back the tape. Inside was not what she expected. There were pictures of a little girl, then the girl as a teenager, then no more pictures. Underneath the pictures were drawings. Watercolors of rainbows and flowers, a drawing of a dog named Spot and a cat named Socks, but it was the last drwing that held Melanie's attention. It was done in crayons, possibly by a 5 or 6 year old. It was a picture of a family in front of a house. It was labeled, mom, dad, Spot, Socks, it was the last name that startled Melanie, the little girl between mom and dad with a single name above it. Hannah.
Melanie hastily put the drawing on the floor. She sat for several moments, not thinking, not moving, just sitting. Who was Hannah? She felt uncomfort and a need to be away from the box overwhelm her, and she started to put the stuff back in the box when a peice of blue material caught her eye. She reached in and pulled out a dress, pale blue, old with time, a little girl's dress. Realization hit Melanie like a storm. It was the same dress the little girl who was missing had been wearing. Her dress. Melanie held the fabric to her cheek and felt the tears well in her eyes. Who was she? Who was Angela? Who was Hannah? Who were her parents? Where did she belong? Tears cascaded down her cheeks and fell to the pale blue fabric. She felt lost, alone, and more confused than ever. Next Chapter Previous Chapter Return to the: Stories Index or the main page
