Pg. 1
I carefully placed the fishing rods on the left wall of the garage. The space smelled of old oils. That was the scent that had always lingered in there when I visited. Gramps constantly tried to restore his Ford Mustang II. It was like his hobby. But despite the dusty interior, worn paint, and the dents that he had not bumped up yet, I’d say he did a great job so far.
I finished in the garage and closed the steel door. It made a loud rasping noise. I turned to face the door that lead into the dining room. Along with the house, it too looked like an antique. I opened it and walked into the house. I jumped when the screen door slammed behind me, the springs grinding and shaking. I never got used to it, and thought I never would. I continued walking and met Gramps in the kitchen. He was scaling one of the many fish we’d caught. He already had one of the fish on a skillet. I got out of the kitchen because it was a tight space, and I know I would’ve gotten in Gramps’ way.
Not long after I left, Gramps joined me in the living room and said, “Timothy, can you cook the rest of the fish for me? I cleaned them all so you don’t have to.” And without waiting for my reply, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I sat up and walked back into the small kitchen. Quickly, the aroma of fish and the spices that Gramps had used filled my nose. I jabbed at the fish with a fork to check if it was done. It easily flaked as I twisted the small piece of metal. My nose flared as I took deep whiff of the aroma of the fish. I smiled and thought it smelled done, too. Just in case it was, I turned the gas burner off and left the kitchen. I thought Gramps could finish off once he was done in the bathroom.
Before I sat down on the sofa again, I realized something. I had to go to the bathroom too. So I walked over to the bathroom that was located on the other side of the house. I pulled the lock over and used the toilet. When I finished, I saw a hatch door on the ceiling. It was the attic. Now I thought it was kind of weird for an attic to be located in a bathroom, but there was probably nowhere else to really put it. I shrugged it off and unlocked the door. I was ready to open it, but for some reason I stopped. Something was drawing me toward the attic. Something was telling me to go in there. Now it may sound crazy, but I did.
I opened the hatch and slowly pulled the ladder down. I climbed up, almost slipping on the dust that was coated on the steps. Once I reached the top, I stuck my head into the attic. It was about the size of a small dining room. And it was full of boxes and old, dusted stuff. I thought that was pretty typical for an attic.
I continued forward and climbed up into the space. As I walked around, examining everything, there was so much dust on the ground that my footprints were shown. I opened a couple of crinkled boxes just to find things like old baseball cards, comic books, knick knacks, and other stuff I found very uninteresting.