When he was a little boy he was most afraid of walking up the stairs to the attic under the roof. Especially when it was dark. It was a huge place, the largest room in the whole house. No, not just a room - another world. The small window was sealed with a wire-mesh, as if to make it even more clear that there was no way to flee from here. Hundreds of boxes were piled on each other blocking the view to the faceless monsters hiding behind them. The only light bulb was placed in the middle of the room creating a circle of disturbing shadows around it. It was simply not possible to focus on all of them at the same time. They could turn into horrifying creatures whenever he looked away. Dust of half a century filled the dry air: small invisible particles of evil entering the nose. It would just wait until he was most vulnerable to poison him from inside. And then there were the sounds on the roof above: Bird feet scratching over from one side to the other. Loose tiles moving in the harsh wind. Insects feeding and fighting their way through the timber, until the wooden panelling would ache for the last time under the burden of years and break into. It was worst when it was raining: The roof was transformed into a hammering drum that cracked his skull. Impossible to hear the shadows creeping along from behind. Neither one could notice the whispering when they planned their next attack. He was convinced they would get him one day. Sometimes he could even see the headlines: “Seven year-old lost without trace in his parents` house.” But how could he ever warn his parents? They would have laughed about him, blamed his fears on his childish imagination. And how could he ever believe them, if he saw these things for real?
But even when everything seemed calm in the evenings there were things left to fear. It was not a clever idea to enter a lion cage, even if the predators were fed and lying full in the corner. And the ones without name were many. They had their slaves that could work for them even in bright sunlight. It was a game with difficult rules he still had not completely learned to play. Some sites you were not allowed to enter without precaution, things you could only look at with half-closed eyes. In summer it could become extremely hot up here and in winter the frosty claws were stronger than outside the walls. His father had some weird scientific explanation for that. Was he blind for the fact that something in here tried to suffocate them in the dry air and to freeze their hearts?

The door was always locked. Somehow he had managed to convince himself that it was a border that could not be crossed easily. It would keep everything inside that he did not decide to let out. So, whenever entering the room he would hold the breath, jump into the room as quickly as possible and do whatever he had planned to do, meanwhile watching out around like a chased prey. First when the key was turning in the lock, it was possible to breathe normally again.

However, this was only half of the truth. If this had been just a scary place with strange horrifying creatures, why would he ever dare to come up here at all? But at daytime they had to hide from the light. So it felt like a triumph to enter the room now, a victory over a new world to discover. A world full of riddles and secrets. He never knew what he would find this time. It could be an old letter in his grandmother’s boxes. He would not be able to decipher the dainty handwriting covering the pages, but he knew for sure they told a precious secret. It could as well be a toy that he once brought up here, because he was bored of it. But now rediscovering it he would feel like on a birthday holding the old treasure in hands. Sometimes there was a brimstone or a glittering lacewing at the window that got trapped. How good it felt to save these precious ones from being murdered at night. Many of these little warriors had lost their fight. The place was filled with there corpses. It happened that he became angry about himself that he did not come to the attic more often to help them. Like a squirrel in autumn he was even hiding things from himself. It was easy to willingly forget about them. Out of question everything here was hidden for his eyes only. And here he was hiding from the other world called reality.

He had his place in a corner and was cautious enough not to tell anybody about it. No one would find him here and no one would even search. A glimpse of the window was in sight and on some bright summer days a ray of light managed to find its way right into the corner to share the feeling of quiet happiness sitting there. The swallows` love songs outside were muffled, but strange enough this would just make them more clear to the ears. To sit and listen was something he was good at. He was able to do it for hours and then, out of a sudden, something really unexpected could come to his mind. He loved the smell of the past around him. Photos of his parents as children. This could simply not be true, why would they behave like adults all the time now? Especially grandmother’s corner was crowded with mysteries. Old wooden cupboards were put up along the walls. The timber was speaking history just by looking at it. An old-fashioned mirror showed a dirty, milky reflection. But for him it seemed that you could not come closer to truth than this. A heavy wooden box with blackened iron fittings was standing on the floor. It was locked and gave rise to a mountain of imagination about what could be hidden inside. He never asked anybody. Years later he found it open one day and could not resist looking inside. There were just clothes. It was hard to say farewell to thousand fantasies being banned to dreamland. Oh, how he wished later on that he had never taken this one look.
The door was also a gateway to a world of magic, a secret path to the home of fairies. They were hiding like the dark ones, but not to hurt him. More like a good friend covering his eyes from behind to surprise you. When he was allowed to open them up again he would find another fragment from paradise. And not only did they let him find things. They were also whispering a truth now and then. But most times he did not understand what their words meant. And if he would have told about them to the older ones they would not have understood either. He owned a little aquarium and the thought occurred to him several times that the fishes swimming behind the glass obviously were blind for the mysteries surrounding them. They simply had no interest in what happened outside, when the lid opened and food was rinsing in. The only thing that counted was the small world in which they were swimming around in circles. He assumed that it was a dangerous part of growing up: losing interest.

But so he grew up. Nowadays he laughed about his thoughts, his fantasizing visions. An attic is an attic is an attic. Nothing else. No question mark. That is what he would now would have answered immediately. Wait, really? He still believed that there was a world that you can see and a world that you cannot see. And more and more he learned to understand the saying that most things in life were just symbols of something else. He had moved several times. Never again there had been an attic in one of the houses like the one in his childhood. But the truth was, he had one anyway, a huge one, up there - in his head.

It was a place to keep memories – wonderful and horrible. As he was getting older, the shadows in it had grown as well. Unfortunately the key to close them away was lost by now. Often it was still possible to close the door, but thoughts could jump out in an unexpected attack. He was afraid of it. Especially when it was dark. The demons used to visit him when he was most vulnerable trying to fall asleep. They were grinning at him with sharp teeth of remembrance, frightened him with screams from an uncertain future. Even at daytime they were powerful when they reminded him of experiences he thought he had left behind since long. They had won control over his body, made him react in ways he did not want to. Holding the breath did not work any longer. And you could not talk them away either. Others did not understand and by time he had to accept the truth that they never would. Demons are visible for your eyes only. Most people also had no interest in listening. The world behind the glass could simply not be for real and it made no difference to them anyway.
And the faeries? Sometimes he saw things many others did not notice. The soft music in the air surrounding a loving couple walking by. The statue in the park that seemed to dance away in the warm sunlight. A stone in his hand whispering from the past. Clouds painting a picture in the sky. Things happening for real, but not visible for everybody - little treasures in a dusty world.

He had decided to like every room in his house, realizing that he would never be allowed to move. But sometimes it was hard to love them all. All of these things you find in the attic.