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Weekly Contest #133
It was a Tuesday morning and, shut in by the inevitability of December rain, I had decided to shuffle some artifacts in the old attic. There was no one coming to the house for weeks and I felt a hazy sense of something waiting to be discovered. I donned a moth-eaten sweater and ascended up the house, expecting any manner of dust and termites–the ladder had grown rusty with neglect, and the attic itself had lain untouched for years. At the foot of the ladder, an old fear returned; as a child I had frequently prayed for safe passage when ...
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