The Room in the Attic - BFF 238

This is a fictional story I wrote.  I hope you enjoy it.

       We loved the quaint house.  That is exactly why we bought it.  It was a fixer upper to be sure, but that is why the price was so right.  We had never owned our own house before and looked forward to painting it, decorating it, and loving it for a lifetime.  It would be home, plain and simple.  The painting and decorating may have to wait, but we had plenty of time.  The down payment and getting the utilities started up took all the extra ready cash we had on hand.  Life would continue to be paycheck to paycheck, but on the upside this place would be ours.  It had a beautiful yard and plenty of room.  While it was out of town, it was still close enough to shopping and everything we would ever need.  It was perfect!

          Up to the room in the attic went the boxes of Christmas decorations, baby clothes I couldn’t part with, odds, ends, and the kid’s old toys.  Sunlight danced on the wooden attic floor from the two large front windows.  I had never lived in a house that had a walk in attic before or a basement.  Having an upstairs and a downstairs was a real novelty and the kids were ecstatic to be able to race up and down the stairs.  It sounded like a thundering herd.  On the upside, maybe I would be able to burn more pounds running up and down staircases myself.  It was an older house, but it had charm.

          About two weeks after moving in it began.  I had tucked both kids into their beds, let the dogs out for their last pee of the night, checked on my children’s sleeping forms once again, and returned to my own room.  I had just settled into bed and opened my book when I heard it.  A definite banging and footsteps were coming from the floor above.  What the hell?  I heard screams from the neighboring rooms and a thundering of feet as my kids ran into my room and jumped in bed with me.  The dogs were barking and growling.  And then Bang! Bang! I heard the distinctive sounds of footsteps walking across the floor above again.  The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

         “Mommy, something is up there!”  my daughter said terrified.
         “I don’t know what it could be! No one is here but us!” I confirmed certain it was only the wind.  The footsteps sounded again.  This was our house and I was determined to investigate.  Grabbing my cell phone, I climbed out of bed and headed for the stairs with both kids and the dogs close on my heels.  I flipped on the light switch, and climbed each stair with terror gripping my heart.  We reached the door leading into the attic room, when we saw the door knob beginning to turn.  Screaming, we turned tail and raced down two flights of stairs to the main floor and out the front door as if the hounds of hell were after us.  The cold night air assaulted me as I burst out into the yard.  I dialed 911 and announced to the operator.  “Someone has broken into my house!!  Hurry!! Come quick!!  Help us!”  The dogs continued to bark.  I called the dogs to me and they raced hell bent for election out of the house, barking all the way.  They stood guard at my feet, barking and growling at the house and what or who was within.  I hurriedly hooked them up to the leads outside as they continued to bark in agitation.

            What seemed like minutes passed and a patrol car pulled into the driveway with lights flashing.  I explained to the officers what had happened, and thankfully waited in their warm squad car as they entered the house with guns drawn searching for the culprit.  After 10 minutes of a thorough search of the premises the officers emerged to inform me that there was nothing in the house.  I felt like an a$$, I admit it, but we knew what we had heard.  We went back to bed without any further incident that night.

             The next night, the footsteps and banging returned.  This time I awoke to find a glowing presence standing over me.  Fear caught my breath as I stared up at it.  I blinked and whatever it was vanished.  I turned on the light to find myself completely alone except for the growling dogs around me on my bed.  There was no more disturbance for the rest of the night and I finally drifted back to sleep holding the dogs close for protection.  

      The ghostly encounters continued.   We never figured out what the ghost wanted.  I decided after a while to do a little research on the former owners of the house and discovered that the man who lived there before had died there in his sleep.  Bill had been old and alone.  Supposedly his wife had died years before, and his children had moved cross country.  Maybe he didn’t want to leave his home.  Maybe he liked us.  He didn’t seem scary anymore, only sad.  After a while, we grew used to Bill’s ramblings.  Occasionally we would still hear the bangs and footsteps and I would yell out into the dark “Go to sleep Bill!  It‘s late!” and the commotion would cease.

        Years have passed, my husband and I are old and the kids have grown and moved on with their own lives and families.  The footsteps and bangs have become only a vivid distant memory.  I imagine Bill is finally happy we are here taking care of his old home.  So happy in fact, that he could finally return to his loving wife’s side and rest in peace knowing his home was in good hands.