Gasping for air it's quite a way up, you wonder how there can even be this many stairs in your house, it's only a small house. You hear the whistling of wind trying to sneak through some unknown crack from outside.
As you reach the top you notice the space between the roof and the floor, it's so short. So you kneel and crawl through, webs caressing you. Spiders seem to crawl all over your skin, creeping under your clothes. Carefully you move along afraid of the bite but too full of expectation to turn back.
It's much too dark and the batteries of your torch are going flat, the whistling sound seems to have been coming from a tiny blackened window. You reach it and with your sleeve wipe clean its filthy pane then as moonlight flows in you can now see the box, the single precious box of joys untold.
Turning away from the window you crawl your way over to the box, as you shift dust enters the air disturbed by your movements. The box is not labelled but upon inspection you see some marks of a thick black texta, a smiley face; two black lines for eyes and a bracket for a mouth.
The box smiles at you insanely, you are unnerved by its persistent grinning. It's just a box, you swear it just winked, but it's just a box, the moonlight seems to be playing tricks on your eyes.
You reach out your arm, trembling with excitement, anticipation, you're practically drooling.
What could be inside? Old comics? Old game consoles? The soft toy clown you used to drag with you everywhere? Maybe that book you haven't been able to find anywhere?
Quickly pulling it open, thrusting aside cardboard, you see it, everything and more. It seems to sparkle it's calling out to you "yes, closer, closer."