The Attic on The Third Floor

A Story by Courtney Shaw

A young women comes across a ponderous attic at a dinner party, then continues home. When she discovers there is more to the attic then it seems she pursues a life threatening journey to save a girl.

The Attic on the Third Floor

“Good evening everyone and thank you for coming to welcome Tim and I into our new home.” I glanced around the home, admiring the beautiful oak walls, and the roaring fire flaming in a brick fireplace. “Well if you would all follow me we can start the evening tour of this beautifully built cabin.” As we start to walk down the first hallway, I notice multiple paintings of a little girl with long red hair and eyes as dark as deep as a winter night. She looks as if she is trying so hard to escape something, or someone, but she can’t. Finally after two hours of hearing about the paint, and the carpet, and everything else, we make our way upstairs, to the second floor.

Walking from bedroom to bedroom, the air is getting colder and more people start to say their goodbyes, because it’s almost midnight. When we reach the end of the hallway, I notice a loose panel on the ceiling that’s begs for wonder. After everyone leaves, I decide to settle my curiosity. So I grab a broom stick and start to poke and jab at the worn and dusty panel. After about a minute of jabbing, the panel comes loose and pushes up into what appears to be an attic.

I walk back downstairs to ask a little information on the “attic” and why it wasn't mentioned in the tour. “Oh, I wasn't even aware we had an attic. Your more than welcome to grab a ladder and explore, but were going to get some sleep so please try to keep it down.” “Ok, thank you very much, the tour was amazing, have a wonderful night” I say as I exit the room and wander into the garage to find a ladder. Then, I grab the ladder and tiptoe back upstairs with a flashlight and the curiosity of a two year old.

As I climb up the ladder, I can only wonder what lies ahead. Boxes of treasure, or maybe ancient photographs, or maybe untold secrets. As I tiptoe around the dusty, empty attic, I begin to think I have gone through all this trouble just to find a big, dark, dusty, old room. That was until I saw the a little green dress, a little green hair bow, and a pair of little green shoes sitting in the corner all alone. Normally I wouldn't think much of it, except that the clothes weren't dusty. They looked as if they had just been worn last night and had only been stored away a few hours. After all this thinking and climbing, and the house warming, I’m very tired, so I grab the clothes and climb back down the ladder, close the attic and drive home so I can get some sleep.

All night I tossed and turned my mind was crammed with thoughts and questions. “Why weren't the clothes dusty?” “Why were they there?” “Why didn't she know about the attic?”. After getting very little sleep all night, I knew I had to go back and answer my questions. I knew I had to go back up into the attic, and I knew I had to find out who the little girl was and what she was trying to escape. When I get up in the morning and go to grab the clothes, I notice a note on top, “Stay out of my attic, stay out of my house, and if you don’t, you’ll end up just like the little red headed girl, trying to escape, from me.”

Chills run down my spine. I don’t know whether to call the police or pursue on with finding my answers. I decide to shake it off as nothing, pack up the clothes, and head back over to the house, but really back over to the attic.

As I walk in Jane greets me with a cold, lifeless hello, then goes on to ask a haunting question. “Did you leave the door open when you left last night?” “No, I locked all doors, then left, why?” “When we woke up in the morning the front door was wide open, but we weren't sure why. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but I’m sure I locked everything up.” Soon after I tell her that I would like to look up in the attic again, she gives me the ok, and sends me up, to the third floor.

Nothing. I walk all around the attic, looking for a hint that something happened, that someone was there, a clue that I’m not going insane. Just as I am about to walk back downstairs, I see a shimmer of a piece of something silver out of the corner of my eye. I walk towards what appears to be a heart shaped jewelry box, engraved with the name of “Annie.” That’s when my mind started to race, “Is Annie the little redheaded girl?” “Is she leaving me these things as clues so I can rescue her?” “What am I supposed to rescue her from?” Then out of the blue, a loud crashing thud comes from down the hallway.

I quickly climb down the ladder and go to see where the sound came from. I stroll down the hall very slowly and quietly, looking for anything that may have fell, or broken, but I don’t see anything. As I round the corner, I notice the largest painting of Annie is ever so slightly crooked. This was what convinced me that someone was out to get Annie. And whoever that was, was out to get me.

After fixing the picture, I walk back over to the attic, close the panel, and head downstairs. My phone abruptly ruined the silence with a chirping buzz. I pull it out and silently read the text. “Anne, Sorry I had to leave so quickly, my head started to throb, and I couldn't bring down my fever so I ran up to the 24 hour clinic to get some meds. I should be back soon, but please lock up and turn off all the lights before you leave thank you.” So I put away my phone, turn off all the lights, grab my keys and head for the door. Before I walk out, I glance behind me, see nothing but the small flame left in the fire and the low lighting on the face of the portraits, so decide to leave.

That night I did some research on the house and on Annie. I don’t find much at first, but after digging deep into city files I found exactly what I had been looking for. Annie was a very sickly child, and had a very rough childhood. Her father ran away before her birth and her mother was highly abusive. I continued researching to try and find more on her mother, but everything I found said there wasn't much known on her. After finding what I did, I started to think Annie’s soul was trapped in the house and her mother was the one that was out to get her. And that she was leaving her precious items with me so I could help her soul escape.

I quickly realized the kind of challenge I was up against. I knew it would be near impossible to release a dead person from a modern house, but I knew I had to help her, because both our lives depended on it.

The next few days I tried to figure out just how I was going release Annie. I finally formulated a very risky plan, that if it worked would save both of us, but if not, we would both end up trapped, and stuck in the attic. The next few days went by, but not normally. On my way to work, it seemed red lights happened faster, and trucks and buses drove faster and closer, and my brakes worked when they wanted to.

After doing all the research I possibly could, and triple checking all my plans, I decided on Sunday night, I would put my plan into action. I grabbed my holy water, bible, pocket knife, and walked out stealthily, because it could have been my last day. I rang the doorbell, and waited on an answer, nothing. I look in the window, nothing except the low lit fire, and dimmed lights. I assume Jane is sleeping. So I silently twist the doorknob and walk in, shutting the door quietly behind me. Now I’m in, there’s no going back, no regrets, I lock the door and start down the hallway.

I creep up the stairs, toward the picture of Annie. When I reach it, I quietly remove it from the wall and head towards the attic. The attic comes open easier than usual. Something’s wrong. I hear the door open downstairs. I rush up the ladder quietly and grab the jewelry box. Then I head back down the ladder and out the back door. Then I start sprinting towards the local graveyard, because I know I’m being followed.

I can feel my pulse racing, my hearts pounding, but I know slowing down is not an option. Ahead in the distance I can see the familiar street lights of the Hollyville graveyard. I leap over the jagged black fence keeping everything inside, and letting nothing out. I can see the hole that I dug to properly bury Annie. I know I’m close, but I can feel myself slowing down. “No, no, you have to keep going, your so close, keep going!” All of a sudden everything stops. I stop. The world stops. The picture is gone. Everything goes white. I’m with Annie, were both happy. But then things start to from white to grey. And from grey to black…