Published: May 07, 2026
In the Attic
We climbed the stairs to the attic; the house protested with creaks and groans. I opened the door slowly, stirring dust. The air was hazy and the ceiling sloped sharply down from the low centerline peak. A light bulb with a string was affixed to a beam.
"I don't like it up here," I said.
Simon twisted past me, pulled the string, and opened the first box. A trail of footprints followed his path in the dust. I stepped into the space and sneezed. Shadows filled me with fear; they were everywhere.
"I know I'm scared for a lot of not real reasons, but what about the real, real things?" I stammered. "Like rabid bats? I don't wanna die foaming at the mouth!"
"Bats? I thought they turned to dust in the light."
I heard scratching and squeaking above my head, and let a scream unfurl. Simon had his arms around me.
"Squirrels," he whispered into my ear, "playing on the roof."
I exhaled. "I should go downstairs."