The Attic World

The figures in the landscape saw the light reach up to where they all met. Their Creators had said “One day you will see the light, again.” and now daylight emerged from the keyhole and illuminated the edges of their landscape. The prophecy was fulfilling. Each knew much work had to be achieved in a short period of time.
Finally the key turned in the lock. The door in the floor opened and their saviour stepped into their world. She was dressed differently from their Creators, had no wrinkles. They heard a click, and a whirr and the voice of one of their Creators
Hello Kurston. It’s your mam and dad. You’ve heard our Will. Welcome to ‘The Pentateuch.’
It’s a loft, dad!
It’s just a loft to you. To us it’s our marriage. Our life.
She could tell he was reading. His voice forced and unnatural. Her mother spoke.
Hi ya, Kurston. Close the door. Take 25 days off work, if you’re curious. There is a bed for you.
A light highlighted a bed against one wall. Explain to your boyfriend.
A light highlighted a phone on the bed.
If you’re curious?
That word again. She’d been brought up to that word. Why should I bother with all this nonsense? What were they ever to me?
I understand your anger with us, Kurston. Leave now, and no more need be said.
There was a pause. Her mother knew her too well. She knew asked to leave by her parents she’d stay. Her eyes began to water. She was determined. The grief over her parents death would be an ordered process. She needed time by herself. She would stay. She sat on the bed and said
This is for me not you.
And as soon as she put her weight on the bed a light flicked on the opposite wall. It revealed a painting so big it covered the wall. She gasped. Out of the darkness, to get colour bouncing out of the dark.
Who? What?
Her fathers voice seemed distant. We thought you would be.
Her mother voice seemed closer.
We call it “Out of the Woods”. Your father thought of the title. Being the clever so and so he is. Do you like it? Don’t be afraid. Get up and have a look. It wont bite.
Slowly she got up. Her legs felt weak and unsteady. The picture was a landscape that inclined like a dormer ceiling up to the single point of the roof ,where she could faintly discern that the other walls were similarly covered with landscapes. However, the other paintings faded into the darkness while the illuminated one shone out its predominant colour of green.
She thought it a forest at first. A primordial wood.
Peering more closely she began to discern a building or two. Then everything was not what it had seemed. She saw a picture of Barnsley: a town hall of white blossom. The football ground at Oakwell was made of Oak trunks.
Looking more closely she could see small Bunnies hopping around a forest path down a rhodedendron Arcade towards a Market Hill full of fruit trees extending from Graham’s Orchard that lined a stream running from Whinny Nook at Pogmoor, down Summer Lane described in Cherry trees, down Peel Street lined with Beech to the bottom of Market Hill and a little stone bridge. In fact this was the only piece of stone in the picture.
She thought she recognised some of the bunnies for they had human faces. Yes, two of the bunnies hopping together were her dead parents.
Why bunnies?
Does it ask questions of you Kurston? Her father was trying to sound portentous and she wasn’t about to talk to a piece of magnetic tape.

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