the attic
○ but the real interesting stuff is in the cellar and the attic. ~ sherman alexie ○
🥀
"What do you mean you're an Oracle?" Amber asked, turning her body a little farther to face me better. "What did you see this time?"
I jumped into the story of what I had dreamed, explaining every detail that I could remember. I didn't want to forget anything that might be detrimental to stopping... whatever that was from happening.
"So, what should we do?" Dad looked in between Amber and I, his expression extremely concerned. "We're still going, aren't we?"
Amber sighed, meeting my eyes again. "There wasn't anything after we were attacked?" I shook my head, looking down at my fingers.
"Nothing," I emphasized, wringing my hands together.
"We're going," she said suddenly, putting the car back into drive. "We've already come all this way, and whoever is in there clearly needs help."
The rest of the way to Dove Street was quiet. The tension in the car felt like it was about to explode with one word spoken between any of us, so we stayed silent, somehow having an unspoken agreement to do so.
The house felt much more looming than it had in my dream now that I knew what was coming. It looked just as innocent as it had the first time, the houses around it seeming just as normal. But I couldn't help wondering if the neighbors of 1252 knew what was next-door to them.
"Let's go around back," Amber suggested. "If whatever came after us was in the front of the house, going through the back should buy us some time."
Dad and I agreed, all of us climbing out of the car. We made our way to the front of the house, but instead of going to the door, we went around the side. I took a quick glance at the window, noticing the boy standing there, giving me a small nod before disappearing. I smiled, thinking that maybe he wasn't so bad after all.
When we reached the back door, Amber took a pin from her hair, unlocking the door with a little flick of her wrist. She stuck the hairpin in her pocket before opening the door, peeking in before swinging it open quickly. I was startled by the sudden movement, but she simply looked back at me, saying, "Opening doors faster minimizes the squeaking." I nodded, hiding away the explanation in the back of my mind in case I was ever in another situation like this.
We entered the house, immediately noticing that it was empty. However, it seemed like there had been someone present recently, as there was a plate of food sitting on the coffee table in the front of the house that looked fresh.
Amber moved towards the living room, telling Dad and I to stay behind. Dad didn't listen, of course, making his way to a door that looked different from the others in the hall. The wood looked much more weathered, as if it was older and had been damaged by more than just age. He tried the handle, but, not surprisingly, it didn't budge. He shot a glance back at me, shrugging as if to say, "Worth a shot."
Leaving Amber and Dad to their own investigations, I examined my surroundings. It was a relatively small house; one floor with only a few doors leading to what I assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom or two.
But when I looked above me, I noticed a small rope sticking out of the ceiling. I was reaching up to pull the string, finding that I was just barely too short to grab hold of it when Dad came over to me. "Need some help?" he asked, and I nodded. He tugged lightly on the string, both of us jumping back as a ladder fell from it.
