The Attic

There wasn’t much that unnerved him, but there was something about that damned attic. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but it made him uncomfortable. He had to go in there, he kept hearing strange noises and had to check for birds, bats, or rats. He figured, what kind of man would he be if he let little nerves stop him from checking the attic in his own house?

He stood there looking up at the attic door and the pull string attached listening to the rustling sounds coming from within the unknown above him. Don’t be a coward, he told himself as he mustered up the courage to pull the rope attached to the attic door and opened it. He realized now, as he climbed up the drop-down ladder that he’s never been in the attic since moving into this house over a year ago. This was unexplored territory.

Once in the attic the rustling sounds seemed to have stopped, suddenly it was silent, but not totally. He heard what seemed to be heavy breathing. Maybe he was hearing things since he was nervous to be in this strange space? To test his theory, he held his breath. The heavy breathing got louder, as if it was right in his ear. He felt the breathing now. He was not alone.

He turned, but saw no one and nothing, not even a sliver of light. The attic door was closed, and he was trapped in the darkness with whatever was in this dank and musty attic. The breathing was the last thing he felt before feeling the blood drip from his ears and his body hit the floor.