The Mystic Attic

On that dusky evening, we set off to an European styled castle. It was well beyond the city limits, unique as well as isolated. The castle was tiny and tidy, had an own aura of mystery. There were very few visitors as the closure time was just ahead, the well dressed castle crewmen were about to wrap their days. There were pretty lasses all over the castle busy with their work.

We did rush through most of the ground floor, to ensure that we cover all of the castle. The first floor of the castle justified our hurriedness with the awe-inspiring interiors. There were extraordinarily well textured carpets, elegant curtains to cover the well carved out windows, beautiful sculptures and a few ladies trying to make sure we were comfortable.

We were captivated, concluded that missing a thing at this castle was unjust. A bunch of us decided to take stairs further to help ourselves into the attic at the corner. To be part of the same castle, attic wasn't clean enough. It was wooden floored, well spread, about 7 feet tall. Strangely, there weren't many usual things to be found in a typical attic. Nor there were any boxes topped with web neither any tome.

Couple of ladies climbed into the attic suggesting that we should leave as the stipulated time was up. They sped down in hurry. Near the stairs that we had taken, there was an unusual molding of an old man which was unnoticed till then, it was white in color with a white towel over its head, covering half the face from top. We neared the molding, one of us dared to bother how the old man looks. The elongated face was white eye brow'd, with an unpleasant grimness and a sarcasm expressed. The lines on the face of the molding suggested that, the man looked age old.

Wanting to abide by the words of the ladies, all of us started to climb down from the attic. Suddenly there was a scream from one of the mate pointing towards the molding. The scenes that followed were shocking! the old man had no foot landed!! His toes were pointing downwards as if the old man is trying to look taller. All of us joined the scream, panic stridden, we rushed downwards. I got hang of the boomerang(nonreturnable) lying on the floor, threw it towards the legs of the old man. The molding broke down into pieces making huge shrilling noise. We rushed further down into the ground floor to report the mishap. Shockingly, there were no lasses around any more. Though there were many middle aged, modestly dressed workmen whom we hadn't met before. They confirmed that the hung-molding on the attic as it was being suspended by a string tied to the ceiling of the attic. Moreover, they denied of any well dressed lasses being at work in the castle. Deep shivers ran down our spines, leaving us transfixed.

As I look around, my clothes are hanging down the wall next to me. I look at the mobile phone to realize it's 5.30 in the morning. Ruing over no cricket being played down under that day, I sprung back to my sleep, but not before I made an effort in recollecting the whole of my dream to the finest detail possible.

An edge-of-the-seat thriller had just got over, where I was the "protagonist" :) Though it was meant to be a nightmare, it felt like a fantasy, a sweeter one.