Concealed

‘Who wants to know?’ she says with a look so deceiving and irritated. ‘I am with Bluebird Publishing about...’ before I could finish, she lets out a snarl.

‘Down the school attic, near the school oval, don’t be longer than 20 minutes.’

I could feel the anger inside of me boil, but I was too focused on my goal that with one loud sigh I just turned around and walked off with no sign of mercy or appreciation. Heading down the ladder into the darkness of the abandoned school attic, I can feel the chills running down my spine. The only light, the only brightness in these dark walls shines through so lightly that near to nothing can be seen. However, enough to see the dusty air particles dance in front of me. One by one they fall in front of me as they sway in the distance. The piles of papers stacked up against the wall has been left untouched still stands tall after a decade. Records stuck up together, cemented together holding up the proud writings of this school’s history. Records that climb higher than Mount Everest can only be touched with caution and care. So, where should I start?

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. With no trace of anything I began to lose hope. The air around me has become so stuffy that it became hard to breathe, but this could be my new story. This could be my big break. As if all hope is lost as fate would have it, a thin paper, so fine and so coarse that it could cut like knives, lifted itself from its original place and floated down like a leaf off an autumn breeze. It lands on the black bag. On it details the land information in the 1960s. That is when I realised that the school had not always own this land, well not all of it. Half of used to be this school’s oval but the other half was owned to an unknown owner, who’s house used to stand there. This must be it!