My first attempt at bringing an action sequence to life.  I have to admit, even I feel a little dragged on with every sentence I read.  Ah well.  It's here, revision pending I suppose.
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That night was the roughest of my life.  Attia apparently had to get all the nagging out of her that she could, saying that the bed wasn’t made right for me to sleep in, that I hadn’t brushed my teeth in one spot, that I hadn’t shaved the invisible hairs on my chin, armpits, chest, legs, arms, and the naughty bits, etc.  When that was said and done, she said that the bed wasn’t made just right again, and started shuffling it around randomly, causing more ruffles, which caused more shuffles, so I finally had to push her out and lock the door.

My ears still bleed from that night.

When my head safely hit the pillow, it was all uphill from there.  Rest.  Sleep.  Non-awakedness.  Call it what you will.  Best part of the day. When sunlight hit, I almost went back to bed.

Then I told myself I was an idiot and woke up promptly.  After showering, dressing, and getting myself in proper garb for the morning, it took a minute to sink in that neither Attia nor the other maids had done this for me.  Thank God, I thought then.  With my binds and chains thus undone, I bolted towards the attic to see what was so dangerous about a single room in the mansion.

It took upwards of 10 minutes to find the door to it again.  The last time I tried was too long ago for me to remember, and the various landmarks of servants had vanished, on account of the fact that they by law had the day off on the exact day of independence (they had to come back afterwards though).  The door was also hidden in a panel, right in the naughty parts of a cherub in the fresco on the ceiling (somedays it just doesn’t pay to live in a house designed by a pedophile).  On top of that, it didn’t come with a ladder, forcing me to run down, grab one, and come back, this being the most physical labor I had done all this month.  To top it all off, there was a second space through which I had to use the ladder to get through past the first one.  I felt that the architect had planned this just to piss me off.

The inside, when it was finally reached, was dank and dusty, as a usual attic should be.  The unique part was that it looked exactly like a dungeon buried underneath a castle, with iron gratings leading to closed cells, a dark and sinister look to it, etc.  As I walked farther forward, it only seemed to get even darker.  I noticed that the place was entirely made out of what seemed to be high quality steel, welded together with intense heat.  The air appeared to freeze before me the further I went.  An attic like this didn’t seem physically possible.  My house was only half as long as this hallway was shaping out to be.  After 10 minutes of corridor walking, there seemed to be a little pinpoint of light in front, about the same distance as the light of the trapdoor behind me.  I was reminded of Macbeth being halfway in the river of evil, then reminded myself that I wasn’t evil, just aristocracy.  I sprinted the last part (a difficult task, mind you) of the hall to stumble upon a golden box, resting atop a pedestal, reflecting light from a non-existent source.

The air was incredibly cold here, just about the temperature one would expect to refridgerate food.  It was also terribly dark.  I could hardly see the path I had taken, let alone the walls to either side of me.  It gave the room a very haunted look to it, giving me not only the creeps but the willies and the heebie jeebies as well.  I needed to get this box out of here and back to the safety of the sunlight.

The box had an ornate design, with serpents, eagles, and lions fighting each other on the two sides and the back.  There was a weird symbol on each corner of each side, depicting an X inside a circle with four dots at each intersecting point on the circumference.  The front side, however, showed a man in armor, a cape, and two massive blades on his back facing the viewer.  This told me two things: either the box was very, very bad to open or the box was incredible awesome and had to be opened immediately.  Given that the box was shiny, it was inherently awesome, so I proceeded to pick it up and open it outside the attic.  

As I lifted the box off the pedestal, the pillar sank into the ground in almost an Indiana Jones fashion.  I froze for a few minutes, expecting a giant boulder to come rolling to crush me or a bunch of arrows to fly through the walls.  Since nothing happened, I walked quickly and briskly towards the door.  As I was walking, however, the room seemed to grow even darker and colder than when I stood at the box, as if all light and heat were escaping out of the room.  With each step more drained out, until it felt as if I were in a freezer with the door closed.  I ran to keep to blood circulating, but in my cargo pants and T-shirt, warmth was a major commodity.  When I felt I could go no farther I dove and slid across the floor, realizing that it had turned to ice as soon as I hit it. The sliding was nice until it started freezer burning my skin through my shirt.  It was the most horrible thing I had experienced in my fancy life, and it only ended with the feeling of soaring.  I thought the shock had caused me to lose conciousness, as this was the most pleasurable thing I had felt in ages, until I hit the hardwood two floors down.  It was only then that Morpheus took me away to his realm of rest.