Green Eyes and Dark Skyes

I Knew I Should've Stayed In Bed

The alarm clock on my nightstand illuminated the time. 2:33 A.M. I huffed and turned on my side. I had school tomorrow but I couldn't sleep. Not because of my sore ribs but what Gran had said. I'll explain tomorrow. I frowned and sat up, my head pounding slightly as the painkillers began to subside.

Why is this bothering me so much? I thought, trying to wrap my head around the logistics. Gran had been teaching me how to fight my entire life but I definitely wasn't Chuck Norris or Jackie Chan. Yet I took down 8 boys in less than 10 minutes.

I sighed and slipped out of bed, pulling down my t-shirt and shoving my glasses onto my face. Sleep was not coming anytime soon, that was for sure. I needed answers and knowing Gran, they would be somewhere around the house. Looking around my small room, I took note of the small desk in the corner for homework and the closet parallel to my bed.

Why not? I shrugged as I began to rummage around in the drawers in my desks but didn't come up with anything useful other than a pencil I had been looking for. I moved on to the closet and carefully searched for anything that might be out of place but nothing popped up. It was worth a shot. I pulled my waist-length hair into a ponytail as I thought.

If I were a sneaky grandmother, where would I hide important information? I racked my brain for any hiding places and decided to head downstairs. I was careful not to step on the creaking floorboards and began my search.

Kitchen cabinets? Nothing. Living room couch? Nada. Storage closet? Nein. Fridge? Zip.

A frustrated groan left my lips and I rubbed my eyes from under the glasses. There had to be something. Gran would never throw away hard copies of anything. She still report cards from 2nd grade. A thought popped into my mind. What about the attic?

I nearly scoffed out loud. The attic was full of antiques from the 40s and clothing older than my English teacher, Mrs. Brassil. Then again, knowing Gran, she probably would hide something in the attic since she knew I hated going up there and having to breathe in the layers of dust covering the hundreds of boxes occupying the tiny space.

Wait a second. A small grin graced my lips. Of course. I hate going up to the attic; of course it would be up there!

Eagerly, I ran up the stairs trying to make as little sound as possible and stopped at the end of the hallway. I eyed the small rope dangling from the ceiling and leaped, grabbing it and yanking it down. The stairs unraveled and graced to the floor smoothly, emitting a cloud of dust with it. I coughed and quickly checked to make sure Gran wasn't behind me.

I slipped up the creaking stairs, cringing every time one of the steps let out an especially loud creak. Finally, I stepped into the attic and scrunched up my nose. There were definitely more boxes here than the last time I came up here. Wasting no time, I turned on the light and fished around in the boxes. It was all the same junk I encounter every time I looked in the boxes. Ripped books, dusty dresses, broken dolls, the whole set.

I steadily moved towards the back, towards the even older looking boxes and still came up with same crap.

"Ugh!" I tripped over broken doll and collided into the wall, releasing a hollow knock as I tried to balance myself. I instantly snapped around to see if Gran was going to come up here and drag me down by the collar of my shirt.

"Creepy dolls." I muttered darkly and looked at the wall curiously. Did all walls make so much noise when I bump into them? I froze. Walls aren't supposed sound hollow when knocked on. Testing my theory, I rapped the wooden plank with knuckles and, sure enough, a hollow echo sounded out.