The Attic - Freewrite

I guess it was about 4 years ago when I started hearing the scratching noises coming from the attic.

I was usually half asleep when it happened so it was actually hard to remember that it was happening at all.

In fact, it wasn't until my roommate said something to me that I had a full recollection of the nightly event.

"That sounds like some pretty serious scratching coming from the attic" he told me.

"I think maybe a raccoon or a squirrel got trapped up there."

Ugh.

I don't want to have to go to all the effort of checking that out.

It's not like it's really been keeping me up anyway.

Source: Giphy.com

"Let's make some time to check it out tomorrow night." he put down his beer and headed towards the back of the house.

Great.

The next day we both got off work about 6:00 and by 8:00 we were ready to start clearing out the attic.

James had an old black and green flashlight that said the word Radio Shack on the side.

I grabbed a sort of pointy thing had once been a stick. Someone had polished it right up and we now used it as a poker for our barbeque pit.

The entrance to the attic was in the garage. There was a ratty old string hanging down. It took quite a bit of effort to actually pull that door forward.

When the lid finally slammed open a metal ladder that was also attached to the roof part came sliding down and almost nailed James in the face.

Holy smokes.

Smoke was right. There was so much dust and ash floating around the air you've might have thought that a room full of teenagers were lighting up.

With a flick of the wrist the flashlight was on and James was heading up the stairs. I followed right behind with my makeshift weapon.

I wasn't sure what we would find up there but I was a little bit uncomfortable with the idea of frightening a small animal that had very sharp claws.

I'm not sure what I thought the inside of an attic was going to look like but it was really just a storage room for boxes and random worthless junk.

There were old light bulbs thrown all over the place, long rolls of string, a large stack of ugly paintings, and even a strange pile of green dirt.

"What the heck is that? Green dirt?" I loudly exclaimed to James.

I'm standing near the back wall and James must be only a few feet behind me.

I'm noticing that the flashlight appears to be pointed at the floor for some reason and most of the attic is pitch black now.

"Shhhh" he said.

I think that's what he said.

"Shhhh" again.

I'm frozen in place. Maybe it's not "Shhhh" after all.

Is that James?

A cold wet hand softly touches the back of my neck.

I slowly turn my head to the left.

From the corner of my eye I can see James lying against the whitewashed side wall next to a bunch of old paint cans.

What is he doing there? How can he be lying there when he's right behind me, cold hands upon my neck?

I'm screaming now.

JAMES. JAMES. SOMEONE HELP ME.

"Shhhh"

I'm shaking back and forth while my nursemaid holds me close to her.

"I don't want to go up to the attic James. I don't want to go up to the attic."

"Shhhh" she tells me.

"Everything is OK sweetheart. You don't have to go anywhere."

I lay down in a small cot next to the other inmates in the asylum.

I'm going to tell James that I don't want to go up to the attic.

It's probably just a squirrel and besides, it's not really keeping me up anyway.