S2 Creative Writing - Setting

The attic door creaked open. Something rustled in the darkness. I stared, but could see nothing beyond the vague shapes of old suitcases and trunks piled high like a mountain of memories waiting to be explored. There was a smell of dampness that hung over the room. I struggled up into the attic and wedged the door open. Light poured into the darkness, casting strange shadows on the wall. A cobweb brushed my face and I felt the sudden tickle of a spider crawl across my cheek. As I tentatively made my way forwards, it grew darker and colder. I was blocking the light from the attic door. It was there that I saw the hand. It was quite still – and white. At first I thought that it was marble. But then it moved.

What writing techniques can you spot here?