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The Boss in the Attic

Moving up the ladder and peering into the darkness, I could see the chair was covered in dust.

Blowing the dust off into the attic air, it settled quickly.

Light punched it’s way through the cracks in the roof.

Straw and grass hung down from the old wooden beam, the Sparrow nest from the year before.

It was cold from the winter chill coming through the crack in the wall.

Finding the old light that was still attached to the home made stand and swivel head, I switched it on.

Boxes strewn around the floor with names on them. Christmas decorations, children’s books, bits and bobs.

The old rocking chair still moved freely, the wooden arms smooth from the hands that had held them and gripped onto them when frightened.


The loft door closed behind me and made me jump.

I turned back to see the chair was in darkness except for a glimmer of light.

As I looked closely, I could just make out the shadow of a man sitting, looking down.

It was the Boss, but as I blinked he seemed to change in appearance.

No eye contact was made.

The loft door opened, and I looked round to see the empty chair.

The Boss had gone.

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