I like euphamisms and analogies. It's probably the creative writer in me.

Imagine, whether you've truly got a kookie old grandmother or aunt or you don't, what would it be like to go up into her attic and snoop around for all the old treasures that must be stored up there. I mean, come on - she's 80 or 90-something years old!! There's bound to be something interesting!!

She may even be an anal retentive old bat, having everything labeled and stored in a bunch of those new Space Bags. Doesn't leave much by way of mystery, does it? Even so, without the dankness, without the cobwebs, reading the descriptions on a little piece of gluey backed paper, the writing careful and spidery, more than making up for the critters lack of existence; there's an air of sobriety yet mounting excitement.

Attics are not typically well lit. Perhaps a solitary bulb to keep one from tripping over forgotten items moved to make way to access another. In the corners, where illumination barely has a grasp, shadows wrap around a box, a trunk, or some antiquated chest of drawers that was meant to be refinished - 50 years ago. Those same shadows breathe life into the inanimate. Adrenaline begins to pump, instinct causes a shyness away from the non-existent ghosts, but you must know.... what really lives - or lived - in those shadows? The mystery awaits while you stand there, gawking, weighing, deciding, fearing, and wanting. The wanting ... do you really want? Are the frights that await in those corners more powerful than the knowledge they guard? How long it seems to take to think it over......

Questions plague our minds and sometimes our lives. Do we dare truly seek the answers, or is it easier to stay in the light, avoiding for as long as possible those crevices which we have yet to venture into full of unknowns - real, imagined, causes and effects, created or made? I dare.. care to follow me?

MutherLuv