The Attic (925 Words)

Minako and Usagi stood below the opening to the attic, staring upwards, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A tawny string hung from the hatch, and Minako reached up, gingerly rolling the plastic end between her fingers.

"So, do you think we just pull it?" she wondered, cocking her head to the side.

Minako's grandmother had forbidden her from playing in the attic as a child, and instead would recount frightening tales of the ghosts that lurked above them. Minako would giggle at her gran's wide-eyes and animated gestures, unaffected by the horror as she lapped up the drama.

"That's what they do in the movies." Usagi shrugged, shifting the weight of the flattened boxes and tower of garbage bags that balanced precariously in her arms.

"Here goes nothing," Minako said, pulling on the cord. The girls flinched, yet the only movement was the swaying string. Unimpressed, she tried again, refusing to cave until the stairs descended, creaking and groaning from years of immobility. She shook the ladder to test its strength, and made her way up step by step as Usagi watched anxiously below.

Reaching the top rung, Minako was enveloped by a blanket of stale air that sat heavy in her lungs. A veil of dust clung to the rickety furniture and forgotten toys; and particles danced in the ray of sunlight that fought its way through the cloudy pane. Holding her breath, Minako ran across the rickety floor to the dormer window, pulling at the rusty latch until it gave way.

"Is it safe to come up?" Usagi called from the bottom of the ladder, peering up into the darkness.

"Yeah." Minako nodded, appearing at the opening. "Pass me some of that stuff first," she said, motioning to the tower of supplies.

Hands free, Usagi clamoured up the stairs, coming to stand full-height in the slanted space. "When do you think the last time someone came up here was?" She crinkled her nose and clasped her hands behind her back as her companion turned on the single bulb that hung from the rafters.

"I have no idea." Minako shook her head, and dusted her palms off on her jeans. She sighed as her attention flitted from corner to corner, instantly lost in mountains of memories. "I don't even know where we should start," she whined, pushing the bangs from her forehead.

"Boxes first?" Usagi suggested, looping her golden pigtails once more around to prevent them from dragging through the dirt.

"Boxes first," Minako agreed, picking up a roll of packing tape and attempting to find the end.

With the cardboard assembled, garbage bags opened, and sorting areas arranged, Minako and Usagi began to tackle the attic. They chattered as they worked, finding hidden treasures among piles of junk. They tried on feathered hats (instantly deciding to keep them), and leafed through yellowed books, setting a few aside for Ami and Mamoru to fight over. They giggled at each item from a tattered trunk filled with outdated fashion, and teared up as they read handwritten captions on old photographs. There were bone china teacups wrapped carefully in cloth, and an album filled with family recipes that they couldn't wait for Makoto to make.

"Oh my god," Usagi screamed, jumping back, face blanching and heart pounding.

"What?" Minako rushed to her friend's side.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing wildly at a wooden chair.

"It's a doll," Minako replied, monotone and unaffected.

"It's creepy." Usagi frowned, leaning closer only to pull away again. The doll sat with its head to the side, black hair hanging in loose curls, and legs turned slightly out. Her pale pink dress was sullied with time, yet her porcelain face and red lips showed no age.

"My Gran collected them," Minako explained, stifling a laugh at Usagi's contorted expression. "There are shelves of them in the guest bedroom," she added, grinning wickedly.

Usagi snorted, choosing not to take the bait, convinced that the moment the doll was uncovered, the atmosphere shifted. A chill ran up her spine as the single bulb flickered, and no matter where she went, she could feel the doll's glossy eyes boring into the back of her head.

"Would you relax?" Minako snapped, unable to take the jittery movements of Usagi constantly checking behind her.

"It keeps staring at me," she mumbled, her cheeks growing hot.

Minako grabbed Usagi by the shoulders, forcing her to focus on her words: "It's just a doll."

"I know." Usagi swallowed, repeating the mantra as they continued their mission. She kept a cautious eye on the toy, glancing at it as she moved about the confined space. As she tiptoed past, her breath hitched in her throat. "Did the doll just move?" she croaked.

"Maybe she's mad that you called her creepy," Minako joked, and Usagi huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Usa, the doll didn't move," Minako insisted. "It's just… this getting to you," she reasoned, arms waving emphatically.

"Right." Usagi licked her lips, her head slowly bobbing. "Because dolls don't move on their own," she reasoned, wondering what Ami would say about the situation.

"Exactly." Minako nodded. "Unless they're like, Chucky or something."

The girls exchanged a nervous glance, their attention flitting back to the doll whose saccharine smile had morphed into a malicious grin.

"You saw that, right?" Usagi whispered, limbs shaking, and tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow.

"So." Minako gulped, "the boys can finish the rest of the attic?"

"Yep," Usagi eagerly agreed, grabbing Minako's hand as they scampered down the stairs.

From a Tumblr prompt, "Did that just move?" that was sent to my inbox by I wish I knew who (the message has since disappeared).