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The Boy Who Lived in the Attic

ArthurSanchez
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Lucas Bellamy lives in the clouds. His world is a wooden room high above the floorboards, filled with drawings, tattered books, and the gentle voice of Mama who brings him meals through a little hatch in the floor. She tells him stories about monsters that roam outside, about a world too dangerous for a boy like him. And so he stays. He draws tigers. He counts raindrops. He listens to the wind and dreams of flying. But when a strange man appears in the garden below, staring up at his window, cracks begin to form in Lucas’s perfect sky. Why can’t he remember ever leaving the attic? Why does Mama cry when she thinks he’s asleep? And why does the house sometimes speak in voices that aren't hers? A haunting tale of innocence, memory, and the kind of love that protects… even when it shouldn’t.
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Chapter 1 - The Sky Above the Floorboards

I live in a castle.

It's not a big castle like the ones in books, but it has tall wooden walls, a small round window, and a floor that sings when I step on it. Mama says not everyone is lucky enough to live in the sky, but I am.

She calls it "The Loft" — but I like calling it Cloud Room. Because from the little window near the roof, I can see clouds rolling by like slow, sleepy sheep.

Mama brings me food through the hatch. She never comes in, but I hear her voice every day.

"Lucas," she says, "did you make your drawings today?"

"Yes, Mama," I always say.

I draw with crayons she gives me — broken, but colourful. I draw birds, and trees, and once I drew a tiger. Mama put that one on the wall near the hatch. She said, "A brave boy like you needs a brave animal to guard him."

So now, the tiger guards me at night.

There are rules in the Cloud Room.

Mama made them. We even sang a little song about them once.

Rule One: Never open the door at the bottom of the stairs.Rule Two: Never look through the window at night.Rule Three: Never, ever talk to strangers — even if they call your name.Rule Four: Always love Mama. Because Mama always loves you.

I like that rule the most.

Sometimes, I hear sounds under the floor. Thuds. Creaks. Footsteps?

I asked Mama once what they were.

"Ghosts," she said, with a giggle. "Old ghosts who don't like the cold."

"Are they scary?"

"No, darling. Not if you stay in the Cloud Room."

So I stay. I draw. I read the books Mama gives me — old, soft, and sometimes with scribbled-out names on the cover. My favourite is Peter Pan. I like the idea of flying and never growing old.

Mama says I'm safe here.

Better than the Outside.

Outside is loud, mean, dirty.

Outside is full of people who don't understand boys like me.

Outside is where the monsters are.

Today, something strange happened.

When I pressed my ear to the floor, I heard someone talking.

Not Mama.

A deep, rough voice. Saying something I didn't understand.

Then I heard Mama's voice. Not soft and sweet like usual. It was sharp. Angry.

Then… silence.

Tonight, I couldn't sleep.

The tiger on the wall felt like it was watching me.

I looked out the little round window.

There was a light on in the garden below.

And for the first time in my life…

I saw someone I didn't know.

A man. Staring up at the attic window.

Right at me.