The attic is silent save for the distant creak of the house settling. A thin layer of dust blankets every surface, disturbed only by the soft padding of footsteps. The air smells of old books and memories, and the only color is the flickering gold of sunlight scattering across the projector. A gentle breeze rattles a cracked window, stirring a faded movie poster tacked to a beam.
The hand belongs to a young dreamer, their eyes wide with wonder and uncertainty. They trace faded letters on the projector—“Flick”—and hesitate before winding the brittle reel. The attic seems to hold its breath, as if waiting for something to happen. The world narrows to the quiet click of the projector’s lever.
Images flicker onto the sheet: a carnival at midnight, laughter frozen in time, faces that fade as soon as they appear. The young dreamer’s heart pounds, their reflection shimmering in the makeshift screen. The attic feels impossibly large, yet claustrophobic, as if the images threaten to spill into reality. The dreamer leans closer, transfixed by the shifting scenes.
The figure steps out of the carnival, reaching towards the edge of the light. The dreamer freezes, unsure if they are seeing a trick of the light or something more profound. The figure’s hand wavers, then points directly at the dreamer. The attic feels alive, charged with an electric possibility.
"Do you remember me?"
The dreamer’s lips tremble, memories stirring—snatches of laughter, a lost friend, a promise made long ago. The attic’s air shivers with emotion, old secrets flickering in the margins of the film. Tears glint in the dreamer’s eyes as the figure waits, suspended between worlds.
The dreamer stands alone, the bedsheet screen fluttering gently in the evening breeze. The figure is gone, but the memory lingers—warm and haunting, like the fading scent of rain. The young dreamer brushes a tear away, heart full of gratitude and longing. As the last beam of sunlight slips below the horizon, the attic returns to stillness, forever changed by the flicker of film and memory.
