Sam wasn’t sure if it was a wonderful sign or a sign of disaster but Sam knew…he had to make a decision quickly. Getting cornered into this proverbial fork in the road, he had to choose one way or another. In his recently darkened home, a small flicker of light opened his eyes to where he stood. He was in his upstairs hallway near the attic and found himself staring at the light as it continued to flicker on and off every few moments. Not too long ago, he was sitting at his oak desk pondering, trying to glean some inspiration for his latest short story when the lights to his desk lamp and home went out. No storm lay outside his doors that evening. It actually happened to be a calm evening in which one might sit outside on their porch sipping on a beer while letting the time pass. Here he was still looking up at that light coming from the attic wondering what may be up there. For one, he was glad to finally gain some visual within his bachelor pad after nearly 30 minutes in darkness fumbling over his poorly strewn furniture to find a flashlight or, heck, even a match. Sam wondered why this lone light flickered. If the power had really turned back on, surely several other light sources would have been electrified as well. He had this sickening feeling that he may not very well be alone in his home. He lived in the outskirts of town preferring the quiet of the country life to focus on his life’s passion and work, his writing. He rarely entertained guests as he preferred more of a life of solitude. The attic could only be accessed by way of a ladder of no more than ten steps. He racked his brain trying to figure out why the ladder lay unfurled before him. He rarely ever went into the attic but over time he stored a variety of items within this loft from his many years as a hoarder. Sam knew that he had not opened the attic. His heart quickened a pace at that thought as his beating organ thumped away. Moving on impulse, he grabbed ahold of the ladder feeling the grooves of the wood. Ever so slowly he placed his bare feet on the first step, guiding his rattling limbs closer to the shuddering void as the light continued to indecisively alter from the slightest shimmer of light to a darkness one could only find in the depths of an abandoned coal mine. He took each step with the utmost precaution, hoping to delay the inevitable, which was his entrance into the void. At long last, his head peaked up through the hole in the ceiling. Sam couldn’t see any signs of life in this open space but then again he couldn’t see much of anything further than the ten feet radius that the small light bulb expanded from.
Creative Writing I: Sam the Writer