June 3, 2018
Ronnie decided to spend her afternoon in the attic, peeling back brown boxes to reveal different dusty relics while her brother Jayson decided to stay downstairs and read some books. Their grandma Patsy was out that afternoon, visiting an old friend that came from a town over. She had warned Ronnie of how old the flooring was in the attic but Ronnie was very persistent in wanting to peek around the boxes.
She waited for her grandma to leave and when Patsy did, Ronnie hightailed it to the rickety wooden ladder. It was attached to the pull-down door that was on the ceiling and a tiny string connected to it. Ronnie pulled down on the string and wave of dust rolled out of door's mouth. She stood back, waving a hand before staring up at the gaping hole. A wave of wonder washed over her body as Ronnie gripped onto the sides of the ladder, which quivered and groaned upon pressure. Ronnie started climbing up the thin legs of the ladder, silently hoping she wouldn't fall back and land in such a way that her arms would break.
As she neared the opening, Ronnie took a huge intake of old newspapers and mothballs. The heat was intense up here, different from the crisp coolness that dwells down below in the different rooms. Peering through the small opening, Ronnie could see an assortment of boxes, decaying picture frames, and the stolen flamingo that she stole from Mrs. Magpie. Oh, so that's where it went, she thought to herself as she climbed onto the landing. The wooden floor creaked as Ronnie found her balance.
Along the left side of the attic, there were different sized brown boxes stacked haphazardly. She went over to one of the boxes and started to open the fading lids. Inside of the box were old newspaper clippings, some antique items that Ronnie figured were oddly shaped memorabilia that her grandfather owned, and some books. She moved the box onto the floor and started to unpack the box below it. Halfway through the process, Ronnie realized that most of the stuff inside the boxes were old newspaper clippings. She then created a small pile of important newspaper clipping to the right of her and continued searching.
The afternoon continued to drift on and the attic started to heat up. Ronnie wiped the sweat that started to form on her forehead and took a moment to look at her surroundings. She had spent the past hour or so digging, but Ronnie couldn't place a finger on what. She continued to dig through the boxes, opening the lids and peeking inside the closures. Toys, more newspapers, and old pictures of long lost family members were among the items she found. The floor kept whining under Ronnie's feet as she continued to move from box to box.
The newspaper pile at her feet continued to grow. Ronnie decided after one more box, she'd go through them and probably find something of interest. She grabbed as much items out of the last box and placed them at her feet. She then closed up the box and stepped back, sitting down crosslegged. A wall of newspaper surrounded Ronnie, folded elegantly and covered in brown colored stains.
Ronnie picked up the first newspaper. There were several reports relating to an increase in cats being stolen from homes and shoes gone missing during the night. Different ads were scattered through -- one was selling brunt rubber perfume and another was that was prompting a free hat with a purchase of twenty or more flamingos. She continued to look through the newspaper until something interesting caught her attention. There was small paragraph at the bottom of one of the pages that was detailing the accounts of the Benjamin Marcos case.
It was a recurring theme in many of the papers that Ronnie happened to stumble upon after each other. In some cases, the paragraph was highlighted or unlined in black pen. As Ronnie was reading, she came across a part of a newspaper that was neatly cut out. The recurring mystery of underlined paragraphs and misplaced tears continued to pile up as the newspaper wall started to crumble.
Now in front of Ronnie was a medium stacked amount of newspapers that contained at least a mention of the Benjamin Marcos case. It rattled Ronnie's mind as to how her grandma cared enough about a stranger's death but she figured it might've just been an important figure of Shanesburg. She realized, after reading several more newspaper clippings, that perhaps Benjamin was not only an important person to Shanesburg, but a close friend of her grandma.
After a while of searching, Ronnie came across an old picture that was tucked between the newspaper clippings. It was a group of different people dressed in casual black and white suits and as she glanced from person to person, something caught her attention. Near the front, there sat two girls who were smiling brightly at the camera, but since the picture's quality was lacking, Ronnie couldn't tell what they looked like. She flipped the picture over and noticed faint words penned.
The words read, "S.H.B.C. Picture ~ 1968" and something inside of Ronnie snapped. Where have I heard of the S.H.B.C. from? she asked herself, looking at the front side again. She placed the picture next to her and continued searching through the newspaper pile.
The afternoon was slowly turning into a fading sunset. Ronnie was looking through the last pile of newspapers and stopped at a squarish cut piece of paper. It was another report of the Benjamin Marcos case, but this time it was focusing more on the family members that were affected. As she read the small clipping, a realization swept over Ronnie. Among the several paragraphs, it became clear that Ronnie's best friend, Natalie Marcos was related to Benjamin Marcos in some way.
Her entire body worked on impluse and scrambled up to head downstairs to call Natalie to tell her the news. At one point, she was racing to the latch that the floor gave out and her leg slipped through. Ronnie then tripped and landed hard on her stomach, causing the wind to leave her lungs. Her entire plan of calling Natalie was put on the backburner as all her focus was on figuring out how to tell her grandma that there was now a hole in the attic.
Just then, Ronnie heard the front door open.
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