The Attic

Mum never explained what happened to my Dad. He went out one day to see a man about a dog and never came back. And that’s why we had to move into a council house on an estate up the road. It meant we would leave behind the haunted house on the haunted street. But most of all, it meant we would leave behind the dark cellar and the thing that lived in the corner with eyes that bulged out like my big green marbles.

The first night in our new house started well until Mum saw something crawling across my bed. And when she saw another one crawling up the wall, she said I would have to sleep downstairs on the sofa. The fumigator came the next day and after he had finished he said we would have to leave the house but we had nowhere else to go.

And that night, I was back in my bedroom and I asked Mum why there was a door on the ceiling above my bed. She told me it was the door to the attic. And she said there was nothing up there. I didn’t know how she could say that because she hadn’t been up into the attic.

Soon, I would know that she was wrong. At first, it sounded like a small dog howling in the distance. And then the sound grew until I realized it was a girl’s voice. And while I pressed the blanket over my ears, the sound turned into a piercing scream. The scream of a girl who was in fear for her life. And worst of all, the scream was coming from above my head. From behind that door on the ceiling.

Someone or something was screaming in the attic.

In the morning, I asked but no one else had heard the screaming. My big sister said it was obvious. A child had been locked in the attic and had slowly starved to death in the darkness. Now, each night, she screams for her mummy and pulls at the attic door.

Mum said to ignore her because she was just trying to frighten me. But I knew she could be right because soon enough the screams in the night started again as loud and as terrifying as before. I begged my Mum to let me sleep in another room but she said I had an overactive imagination and not to keep looking at the attic door because it would give me nightmares. She promised that she would go up there and show me that it was an empty space. But she never did.

And every dark night, I couldn’t stop myself from staring up at that door on the ceiling. Until one night, after I had stared at the attic door for long enough, I could see it slowly starting to move.

Comments

  1. Left my skin crawling…scarier than any Stephen King novel I ever read. Bravo!

  2. Wildly intriguing!!

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