Beginning of the story in spoiler:
The stairs creaked in protest as I climbed up them. I suppose they had gotten so used to misuse that they could no longer stand my weight. I didn’t blame them. The last time I had climbed these stairs was when I was seven, when my brother had convinced me that there was a monster in the attic.
Now I knew that all that was up there were old books, forgotten memories and dead bugs. Even though I knew this, the attic was still a scary place to me. Perhaps it was the fact that these memories were forgotten, dead memories with headstones and all, and I didn’t want to dig up anything I would regret. What would be underneath the shroud of dust that I had so willingly let accumulate? Perhaps it would remind me of a better time, but I was anxious it would remind me of the worse.
I made my way upstairs and opened the attic hatch. The ladder fell down like a tree house when it was opened along with an unhealthy amount of dust which billowed into the air like smoke. My mum had sent me up to the attic to look for any of my dad’s old photo albums so that she could return them as he’d asked when they split. Apparently he was looking for albums so that he could make a photo collage, something he would never extend his relationship with mom to tell her, but which I had informed her of when he told me.
The floorboards were loose planks that were unstable and mobile up in the attic, luckily my brother was in the house, otherwise I would have been too fearful of an accident to continue. I pulled the metal light cord and a bulb flicked on, casting yellow light around me. An upturned and thousand year old corpse of a cockroach was only a few inches away and I blew on it to take it flying out of my sight. Cardboard boxes occupied the space of the attic, but were pushed to the sides and overflowing with faded things which everyone had forgotten.
Yeah, so basically I may attempt to write a novel and I'd appreciate it if you'd all give this a read and tell me if it's worth perusing. It's going to be about me discovering through old photographs who my father really is. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.
I mean I may use this novel writing as a personal project topic. A personal project is basically this huge project at the end of a critical point in the IB education system. It's bigger than all the other exams you have done in the past and if you don't do well on it, then you can't get your IB middle years program diploma. I obviously need to be able to finish the novel if I use it for a personal project, though I may just write it for fun if you guys don't think this idea is worth perusing.
Thanks for reading!