Blue winter rose
Active Member
Noah looked around the attic. There were boxes with dust on them, crates with more dust, dust, blankets thrown over large objects. He peeked under one of them, revealing a couch. He kneeled near the trapdoor. It was a simple wooden plank with an iron keyhole at the side. A ladder was connected to it in such a matter it would slide out when the trapdoor was opened from downstairs. Through the cracks, a much cleaner hallway with expensive-looking blue carpet was visible below.
Noah frowned. Going downstairs would mean more risk. “Let’s make sure there is nothing of value here. We might not get another chance to look,” he suggested as he stood up. “Maybe there is something in those boxes.” It was unlikely they were going to find something from value here, but he wanted to make sure before getting further into the house. He opened up a box filled with notebooks. “Violet,” he called. “Would this be useful?” He held up one of the notebooks. Like the others it had a red cover and a date written on the front of it, with a cursive nearly intelligible handwriting. The papers inside barely hang on to the cover.
Noah frowned. Going downstairs would mean more risk. “Let’s make sure there is nothing of value here. We might not get another chance to look,” he suggested as he stood up. “Maybe there is something in those boxes.” It was unlikely they were going to find something from value here, but he wanted to make sure before getting further into the house. He opened up a box filled with notebooks. “Violet,” he called. “Would this be useful?” He held up one of the notebooks. Like the others it had a red cover and a date written on the front of it, with a cursive nearly intelligible handwriting. The papers inside barely hang on to the cover.