Grandma's Attic

Darkness fell as we arrived at my Grandma’s house. It was unseasonably cold for an autumn evening, but neither my parents nor I thought anything of the bitter chill as we entered the warm, welcoming home. The kitchen was full of the scents of a dinner nearly ready to be served, mugs of hot tea and coffee ready to warm our hands and bellies as we settled in the small living room. 

Nothing felt untoward until I heard a strange noise coming from upstairs. I turned to my mum and asked what the noise was, but nobody else had heard anything. Not wanting to get in trouble for arguing, I excused myself to use the bathroom upstairs. 

I could never figure out which light switch was for the upstairs landing; none of the switches near the bottom of the stairs seemed to turn on the light I wanted. So, I decided to venture upstairs in the dark. 

With every step, an oppressive cloud of foreboding weighed heavily on me. The sounds of the conversation below were silenced by the ringing in my ears, and even my pounding heart was lost to white noise. 

When I finally reached the top of the stairs, I could feel a dark aura spreading through the landing. I could barely resist the urge to run to the bathroom. When I was finished washing my hands, I went to leave the bathroom, but for some reason I decided to turn off the light before opening the door. When I tried to unlock the door, it wouldn’t budge. Panic once again flooded through my body as I tried in vain to pull at the door. I started banging and shouting for someone to help me, wanting nothing but to escape. I could still hear my family downstairs, but none of them seemed to hear my cries for help. I was alone. 

I heard the noise again. A dull, scraping sound, like something being dragged across the ceiling above my head. I looked up, but there was nothing but darkness. In my panic, I forgot to turn the light on again. I pulled the cord, and the room was illuminated again. The dragging noise stopped. 

With the light on, I was now somehow able to unstick the lock and open the door. Again, I felt the overwhelming urge to run to the stairs, but I was beginning to feel silly. Only little children are afraid of the dark. 

I don’t know what caused me to look deeper into the darkness; that feeling that something was off was still lingering in the air, and I suppose my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to know where the scraping sound had come from, the limited light from downstairs casting strange shadows. Walking away from the stairs, further into the landing, I then looked up at the ceiling. The attic door was gone. Someone had opened it, but I was sure that no one else had come upstairs, despite all of the noise I was making earlier. Something I can’t explain drew me to go and stand under the hole in the ceiling. There was no voice or creepy singing, just a feeling that I needed to see why the door was open. 

I woke up on the floor. I don’t know what happened or how long I was lying there. I felt dizzy, and the oppressive aura was heavier than before. I carefully went downstairs, still not sure of my feet, and returned to my family. They reacted as if I hadn’t been up there for very long at all; they were clearly oblivious as to what had happened before. I told my Grandma that the attic door was open, and she was confused, stating she hadn’t been up there in years. She went upstairs with my dad to go and have a look, but when they came back downstairs, they said that the door was closed, as it always is. 

My mum asked if I was ok, because I looked pale, and I just said I was feeling a bit tired. I didn’t want to tell them about the fainting. My family continued their evening, chatting away over dinner, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Someone must have opened the attic door, and the longer I sat there staring at my plate, the more I began to believe that the door was opened from the inside. Whoever, or whatever, had opened that door had caused the dark aura I felt when I went upstairs, that dark aura that still clung to me. 

I tried to shake the thoughts away; no one else felt like anything was wrong, so I must just be imagining things. Why would there be anyone in the attic? I turned my head to look at the window, and the room reflected back at us, surrounded by darkness. Meeting my own eyes, I smiled at myself.