The Attic
Today, I want to talk with you all about a childhood fear. A fear that I strangely still carry with me today, decades later. No, it’s not a fear of spiders; I love spiders now. Fear of heights, well yes, I am still afraid of heights, but this fear is different. It’s a fear of a space. The attic! Yes, you read that correctly. I am afraid of attics. There is a story behind it, though, so hear me out. In Germany, we lived in an apartment complex that housed 8 families; the building had an attic with storage units and a basement with storage units for each family. We lived right under the attic. In my room, you could hear people walking up the stairs to the attic; it had an incredibly heavy door that would grind the ground when you opened it. Again, this was all audible from my room. Often at night we, I say we, because my brother and I shared a room, would hear the door grind open but never heard anyone go up the stairs. We kept our Christmas decorations in the back of the storage u...
