The Unification Epicenter of True Lightworkers
A short story by Brandy Pappas
The attic had called me at a very young age.
An unusually large space to imagine.
As a child I sneak up to play wildly thoughtful magic.
As I grew, however, like others often did, I mostly used it for storage space.
One day, as an adult, I made my way into the attics large space again.
Box upon box papers were strewn about stacked against walls. Old tattered sheets wrapped forgotten furniture lining the windows tainted with
a thin grey film. A few golden beams were able to poke through hitting the soft
wood floor then bouncing onto the walls.
Cluttered it had become, but at least it was still quiet.
Until the day it wasn’t.
The man in the attic had a serpentine, black licorice body and a voice familiarly friendly.
Flattering me with lengthy word kisses describing his love for the place, and the things, how they filled up the space.
Before long we were best pals, he and I.
How we talked and how we played.
What a friend, helping me move in all kinds of new things into the attic over time. More trifles to store or hide out of the way.
Why what else an attic good for? He’d say
Everyday was the same, for years it would seem.
Until one day I noticed a change.
It had been he and I alone in this place.
Alone… in the dark…for a while.
How long had it been this way?
Light could no longer stream through the thick sludge now blanketing the windows.
Everything in here was covered in soot and grunge.
I panicked and hastily tried to escape but it was too dark to find the door.
Besides this place was far too full to move around freely; the door was likely blocked.
At first I was so frightened, I called to my friend for help but all I heard was his laughter.
All I saw was his maliciously thin black darkness jumping from shadow to shadow.
He sounded like he was right next to me when he pleaded his case,
Settle down, take a break. There’s no escaping this place.
It was too dark to see anything. If only I could see.
I squeezed my way through to the end of the room to the corner of a wall; stumbling and tripping and tipping things over, but I found my prize after all.
Anxiously I clawed the window’s thick grime till finding clear pane, a thin ribbon of golden light that grew to a flame.
Then the light poured in and the man gave a cackle and plea not to do this; it causes him pain.
Please stop this, come back and play with your old pal again!
Eagerly, I wiped the windows clean vigorously till the room was emblazoned with gold.
Once I could see clearly, another horror appeared: a mountain of trash, heaped piles of past on yesterday’s tables and chairs and books and bags and trinkets and rags and pictures…
How do I get rid of this mess?
Then an idea came to me like a soft caress.
With eyes closed, I imagined the attic as it was when I was a child.
The man cries out to me to distract my attention, to beg my affection.
I ignore him and dive deep inside.
Then my eyes pop wide open and the sight I beheld I remember till even this day.
The walls, they spread out and stretched open in their fresh bath of light, bouncing off soft wood floors onto walls honey gold, and now the door can be seen on the right.
The whole place is pristinely open and bright, full of magical wonder and light.
Twirling and giggling and laughing to myself.
I am free.
I am me in the Attic of Mind.