The Box in the Attic

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The window was high. For years Fallon believed the porthole window was decorative. He had been at this cabin his whole life since he was a child. His parents had built it the day he was born. The winter chill bit deep at his bones as he realized he was alone and he had never lit a candle in the apparent attic. Someone was here.

Maybe it was his wife Amy, she had come to surprise him and set the candle as a surprise. His chilled bones relaxed as he went in the cabin and upstairs to the loft.

“Hello” he said in the eerie darkness.

“Amy?”

His inquiries were answered with dead silence and began to scan the ceiling of the cabin. He and Amy were having marital problems for well over a year since his accident where he had accidentally hit a small boy while texting and driving. It was traumatic and he never admitted to Amy or the Police he had been texting and the boy was just sitting in the road. He said the boy jumped in front of him. There was a small investigation but he was acquitted and the parents of the boy faced negligence charges and did not seek to prosecute.

“Hello?” he said again his voice a bit shaky. “Amy if you’re up there, this is not funny.”

This was it, if she was playing some kind of joke he was filing for divorce. He was tired of her bipolar emotional responses to everything. She always gave him judgmental stares every time they saw a small child at the store, or at a restaurant.

Scanning the entire loft ceiling he found no apparent door. There was a small crack where light from the candle was passing. He grabbed a broom and began pushing it into the ceiling and after what seemed like an eternity and when his arm was just about to give out from tremoring fatigue there was a creak and a small square door descended. The candle light glowed through the opening. It was faint now, but he did not see anyone from the gap in the ceiling.

His curiosity overpowered his caution and he slowly pulled down the rickety ladder that was attached to the door. He climbed each rung his knuckles white around the rungs and his calves sore from tension. In the pit of his stomach he felt a sharp pain and he ducked his head as he got to the top expecting to be bludgeoned by an unknown assailant. The small hovel in the attic was barely large enough to stand in. He had to duck his head. It was empty save a small box under the window. It was like a jewelry box but larger. On front of the box were etched words in carved script that read “When an Angel Falls; A Demon Rises”

As soon as he said the words out loud the candle blew out. The small room was pitch black and the window offered no solace. He fumbled for his phone and the smoke from the burnt wick filled his nostrils.

He finally got his phone flashlight to come on and in the reflection of the porthole window he saw movement. He quickly turned expecting to see an animal or something and it was nothing but an empty void. He was terrified to open the box but the need to know burrowed a hole into his soul and he opened it. In it were small scraps of paper and he breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason he expected it to have a snake in it, or a billowing wave of spiders, but they were just newspaper clippings. The first one was dated June 11th 1949 and it was a picture of his grandmother Gran Lillith. In the photo she wore all black and he realized it was an obituary of her death. Oddly it was only two sentences.

“Lillith Angelo born September 18th 1905 in Grand Falls Junction, Co died Friday June 9th at 1051am in her home. No services or relatives listed.”

A prickling went up his spine as he read that she had no family or funeral.

“What the…?” he whispered out loud and grabbed another clipping.

It was a baby announcement for him. There was a small photo of him.

“Our Beautiful baby boy Fallon born December 18th 1992 in Greenville Colorado. We love you!” Denise and Barnett Angelo.

His brow furrowed even more.

“Who the hell is Barnett?” He said out loud even more confused. His fathers named was Winston.

The next scrap of paper was a scripture verse from the Bible cut out. It read:

“The Nephalim were in the Earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came unto the daughters of men and they bore children together.

-Genesis 6:4.”

He stopped for a moment there were a couple more clippings and he needed to absorb what was going on. His phone flashlight flickered and he looked down there was a text from Amy.

“We need to talk” was all it said. He started to answer her but his battery was at 8% and he wanted to finish reading the articles. After the first two clippings he was apprehensive to keep going down the rabbit hole.

Then a thought stunned him to his core. He thought Amy was the one who lit the candle. Who the hell lit the candle? Who is here? Her car wasn’t outside. He nearly fell through the opening in the ceiling when he heard a creaking noise. Someone must be under the attic door pushing it up. With a violet crash it slammed shut snapping the wood of the rickety ladder. He was trapped inside the small room.

“Hey I’m up here! What is going on? Hey!” Fallon was claustrophobic and the porthole window was way too small to escape through. He tried kicking the door down to no avail. He even stood on it with all of his weight and tried to fall down to his knees to break it open with no luck. The ceiling was too low.

“Come on what is this?!” he yelled. “Let me out of here.”

The pure panic began to set. Someone wanted him to read these articles, someone lured him to the room, and now they have trapped him up here.

“I have money. I can pay you. Please, let me out of here.”

He realized there were no cars when he walked in the house so whoever was here must have parked far away from the cabin drive. The room began to get stuffy and the sweat began to bead around his neck and in his armpits.

He looked down his battery was at 6%.

Resigning to his fate for a brief moment he realized he couldn’t read the small clippings without light so he looked at the next one. The headline made him lose his breath.

“Barnett Angelo Dies Falling From 12 Foot Ladder”

He speed read through the article and could not believe what he was reading. It said that Barnett had fallen from a ladder while working on the gutters and the ladder was pushed by his son while he was standing on it. It named Fallon at 6 years old. Barnett fell and landed on a garden rock and moments before he died of severe head trauma he told his wife it was his son.

“How do I not remember this?” he said. “These articles are fake.”

“Whoever you are, none of this is true. My father’s name was Winston!”

Lightning crashed outside and he jumped hitting his head on the attic low ceiling.

There were only two clippings left and his battery was at 4%.

He turned the next clipping and his heart sank.

“6-year old Boy Struck By Car and Dies Jumping in Front of Driver.”

He knew this article and it wasn’t fake. This article haunted him for over a year.

The phone flickered again. He looked down and read the text.

“Make sure you wear the white lace…” it was from Amy. It was also the same text he was sending his secretary when he hit the boy. How did Amy know? Did Samantha tell her? What is going on? He then realized Samantha may have trapped him here. She knew he was texting her when the boy was run over.

“Sam?!” is that you? Look Sam, we can talk about this.” The perspiration set heavy and now his clothes were getting soaked in sweat. His battery was at 3% and he still had one clipping. Then he had another thought.

“Mr. Yates? I’m sorry about your son. We can talk about this. I swear it was an accident” Nothing but silence was the response.

The lightning flashed again and he heard the faint screeching of what sounded like a finger on the porthole window. There was a fog like a breath and he heard it too. Then an “L” shape.

Fallon sat in utter fear as the word “L-I-E-S” streaked the window.

“Oh God….please” he said his pants growing warm. He was not alone in the attic.

Terrified and in tears he turned the last clipping but as he did his phone battery went out. He was in the attic with a nightmare and it was completely dark. He held his breath waiting for his inevitable demise. The aching silence was broken by more streaking sounds and he lost it.

“What do you want from me?! What do you want!? Okay I’m a monster. I admit it! Please just let me go!”

The candle flickered back on and one word was on the window.

“Read”

In the dim candle light he read the last article. Immediately he saw that the date was a few days from now in the future.

“Man Dies in Cabin from Bizarre Accident”

He was reading his own fate. Word for word. The autopsy report showed there were six small human bite marks on his body, but they were deep enough to make him bleed to death in the small cabin attic.

The candle blew out once more. The lightning flickered and he saw the boy in the reflection behind him. It was no doubt Tommy Yates the boy he had run over. He was ghostly and pale, but it was the teeth he noticed most. It was the last thing he saw before the silence of the cabin attic was disrupted by a piercing scream of pure torture.