September Skies

Mom led me into a small, warm room. It greeted me with the floating dust particles and dark shade. Spiders seemed to crawl around the attic, it coated anything old and rusty, a chill shivered down my spine.

"Don't be afraid, Kaehl. I used to spend time here, nothing to fear." She said, holding my hand, tightly.

She opened the blinding lights, and with a flash, the attic gleamed with golden rays, I squinted my eyelids. The windows were shut, but the inside didn't need anymore contributing blindness. There was junk everywhere, from the holes to the rust and the rats that scampered on them.

"Mom, I don't see how the attic is a good choice of place." I muttered loudly, so she could hear me.

She ignored me and roamed around the place, as if she was looking for something. Her soft hands touched everything and digged for a certain piece. She started to throw things, as she ignored the insects that inhabitted the objects.

"Ahhah! Found it!" She exclaimed, touching a small trunk. It was old, I could tell, just like everything inside. There were locks, but no need for a key. The trunk was rusty and full of dust.

Mom blew on it, and swept of the excess with her hand. The dust started to float around the atmosphere. And with a small click, the trunk opened. Revealing everything inside.

Inside lay a toothbrush, a pack of gum, a paintbrush . . . a small picture album. It was black and entitled with delicate script it stated:

Gerard and Kara. In beautiful Golden letters, it was the only thing that caught my eye.

"Ooops, sorry, wrong trunk. . ." she said, blushing, slightly embarrased.

She was about to close the small trunk, until i stopped her. I clutched her wrists with my hands and held in tight before the trunk could click again.

"Can i see it?" I pleaded. I put on my most innocent and angelic face.

She shook her head slightly.

"Pleaseeee?" I tried again.

She sighed, a low sharp sigh. "Fine." She mumbled, and opened the trunk wide.

I grabbed the book and rushed to a corner. I was grinning widely again like a maniac.

And it just so happens that that album was my parents' wedding. . .what was it doing in the attic?

Dad was handsome, anyone could say that. He was wearing black--as usual and his smile was so evident, as if he was the luckiest guy in the world. His hair was held back and his pale, white cheeks blushed with pink tints. Dad was beside his parents, and his hands were folded right in front of him.

Mom was on the red carpet, it looked as if she was gliding through it, her dress was white, which reminded me so much of the I Don't Love You video, they filmed last week. Mom was so beautiful, her face was flawless and her hair had the smoothest and beautifully shaped texture, glowing under the light.

The other people were all a blur, the camera seemed only to focus on my parents. Mom was smiling too, she looked into my father's eyes, as he looked at hers. They seemed to release the tention of love through it.

Next page. . .was their first kiss. Their rosy lips were both locked into each others with their eyes closed tightly, my mother had her arms wrapped around dad's neck, not wanting to let go. . .

I shut it completely, the pictures made me envious. They had a perfect relationship. But at the same time, I was happy for them, they found their perfect soulmate, ready to love forever. . .

"Uh, mom. I'm done looking." I mumbled, handing it back to her with an indifferent expression.

She snatched it gladly and locked it up again. She touched the book carefully though, careful not to destroy the old texture.

"Was it that, what you wanted to show me?" I asked.

"Ohno. . .it wasn't my intention, really. But at least you have a clear picture of how our wedding looked like. Anyway. . .this was what I wanted to show you. . ." Mom gleamed, grinning.

In her hands, was a satin black dress, it wasn't long sleeved, but it was long, it had small glitter highlights and it glittered in the light, the bottom part had a beautiful stitched floral design and. . .it was exactly my size.

again. . .what was this doing in the attic?

"Mom. . ." I muttered in shock. "It's beautiful."

"It was mine, actually." She said. "When I was your age, I wore this in the second wedding of my mother."

"Oh." I mumbled, still attached to the dress.

"I want you to have it." She continued, handing the dress to me, open handed.

"But, why?" I asked, confused.

She laughed, a small, musical laugh. "One, is because it won't fit me, two is because you might need it. . .one day."

"Should i fit it?"

She smiled. "I'm pretty sure it will fit, but go ahead anyway. . ." She encouraged