https://terrorhousemag.com/attic/
Here's the story if you don't want to use the link:
The Attic
Billy pulled a blanket
over his head and tried not to suck his thumb. He was nine years old and hadn't
done it since he was a baby but he couldn't help the fact he was pretty scared.
"You doing all right, boy?" Grandpa asked,
giving him a look, Like grow up you little
pansy.
"Yeah," Billy mumbled into the blanket, his
thumb nearly in his mouth.
His granddad laughed, derisively, "Yeah, I'll
bet."
His grandma joined in, giving him a hard time, "See,
I told you this show would scare you. Next time maybe you'll listen to your
elders."
Billy closed his eyes, pretending he was back home with
his mom and dad. Even if it wasn't the most pleasant place to live because of the
daily escalating arguments and his parents fighting, at least it wasn't scary.
Not like his grandparents creaky, smelly old house at the end of the block in a
small town in southern Minnesota with his grandmother watching everything he
did and giving him no breathing space. Or his grandfather berated him for
"Not being more of a man." And all that had just today, the first day
of his weeklong stay.
This first night wasn't going any better, either. His
grandparents insisted on watching Horror Theater on the television and Billy
had joined them just to be social. But the show, about a guy who spends the
night in a haunted room in an attic, really was kind of scary. Now all he
wanted to do was to be left alone.
Finally, he said, "Could I please go to bed? I'm
kind of tired."
His grandma glanced at the clock on the wall. "Okay.
It's nearly nine. I guess you've had a long day."
Billy glanced at his grandfather who just smirked and
said, "Tomorrow I'm putting you to work painting the garage. That'll put
some muscle on you."
Billy sighed inwardly. What was the big deal all of a
sudden about being a grown up? What was wrong with just being a kid for Pete's
sake? Geez, give me a break. But he kept his thoughts to himself, looked his grandpa
and said, "Sounds good."
His grandpa peeled the cellophane off a crooked cigar and
lit it with a zippo lighter, all the while shaking his head, obviously
disgusted with his daughter's only son.
Billy started for the bedroom at the back of the house on
the first floor next to his grandparents. It had been his mom's old room when
she was growing up and he was looking forward to sleeping there and having the
security of being surrounded by photographs of her as a young girl.
"Hold it right there, young man" his grandma
commanded. "Where do you think you're going?"
He pointed, "To Mom's room. To sleep."
His grandma looked at him with the expression of a hawk
eyeing its prey, "I don't think so. We've got other plans for you. I think
you'll liked it," she grinned showing pointed, yellow teeth. "While
you're here you'll have your own room."
Wow. Good news at last. "That's cool," he said,
risking a smile.
The one-hundred year old farmhouse style home had one
main floor, a finished basement and an attic. Maybe I'll have my own room in
the basement, Billy thought to himself. That would be great. Lots of privacy.
He started toward the back of the house to the basement stairs.
"Just a minute," his grandma snapped, "where
do you think you're going? Your room's that way." She pointed to the door off
to the side of the kitchen.
"You mean, the attic?" Billy asked, his voice
squeaked as his smile faded. Years earlier, his grandparents had converted the
attic space into a bedroom for his mom's younger brother, Tommy. After he met
with an unfortunate accident and died at a young age, it had cleared any trace
of Tommy and only was used for storage. Billy had only been in the attic a few
times and that had been in the daylight. It was creepy then, so who knew what
it's be like at night. Unfortunately, he was about to find out.
"Yes, the attic, you big baby," his granddad
spoke up, blowing out a cloud of obnoxious smoke. "Get used to it. That's
where you're sleeping while you're staying with us."
His grandfather got up, cigar jammed in the corner of his
mouth and gave Billy a one-handed shove, "Have a good night." Then he
laughed as the grandmother opened the attic door.
"Sleep tight," she said."I already put
your suitcase up there on the bed." She reached into the stairwell and
pulled the string on a naked light bulb. It illuminated the first few steps and
that was all.
Billy was terrified, but tried not to show it.
"Okay, thanks," he said as he squeezed past her, his mind racing, his
heart starting to pound. He was going to have to figure out how to deal with
this. Then the door clicked shut and he was all alone. He closed his hand into
a fist to keep from sucking his thumb. He had something to prove not just to
his grandparents but to himself. He just didn't know what it was. Not yet,
anyway.
In the kitchen, the granddad and grandmother looked at
each other and grinned. The grandmother spoke first, "He'll never make
it."
"Yeah," Granddad spoke. "He's nothing but
a baby."
"Just like Tommy was."
"What a poor excuse for a son."
"I'm glad we got rid of him."
"Me too. He was just a pain in the ass. I'm glad
we're going to do the same with that little creep," the grandfather said,
jerking his thumb in the direction of the attic door.
"No kidding."
They went back to living room and got ready for their
next show. Horror Theater was over
and Scream Time was just beginning.
They settled in for a nice relaxing hour of viewing. While the opening credits
were running they looked at each other and smiled. Life was good. It'd be even
better when their grandson was out of the way.
Billy steeled his courage and climbed each step
carefully. It was hard to see so he used his hands against the narrow walls to
find his way. The steps turned to the left half way up and by the time he
reached the top he was drenched in sweat. The room was long and narrow with a
slant roof, giving it a claustrophobic feel. A full moon shone in through a
window at the far end where his bed was located. He used its dim light to make
his way carefully across the floor, sinking gratefully onto the bed's broken
spring mattress. He looked around the room but it was too dark to see much of anything,
only the shadowy shapes of what looked like a desk and a dresser against the
wall, along with stacks of boxes for storage. Trying not to let his fear
overwhelm him, he pulled the covers over his head and attempted to hide. From
what he didn't know.
He must have fallen asleep because he was startled awake
by an odd sound. Was someone calling to him? He listened again but heard
nothing. What was going on? He pushed the covers aside and sat up, looking into
the dim light of the room. He was more stunned than afraid by what he saw.
There in the middle of the floor floated an apparition. A ghost like figure.
"What...what do you want?" Billy asked, pulling
the covers to him and holding them tight to his throat. Strange as it may seem,
the figure didn't seem threatening and he found himself more curious about its
presence than frightened.
The apparition floated toward him and Billy scooted back
against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest, just to be on the safe
side.
"Do you know who I am?" The figure asked. It's
voice was soft and surprisingly gentle.
"No, I don't know who you are," Billy said,
speaking up to hide his fear, "Why would I?"
"Because you're staying in my room and sleeping in
my bed."
If Billy had been a bed wetting person right at that
instant would have been the time to let loose. But he wasn't, although beads of
sweat appeared on his forehead. He was suddenly nervous. Was this thing going
to hurt him?
"Please don't hurt me. What do you want?"
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to warn
you."
"About what?"
"Your grandparents. They're dangerous."
So the apparition wasn't so much dangerous as...what?
Maybe friendly? Was that possible? Billy felt his fear lessen and he sat
forward, "I know they're not very nice, but dangerous? How do you mean?"
The figure floated to the side of the bed and sat down.
It was close enough so Billy could see the ghostly shape more clearly. It
looked to be a young boy about the same age as Billy. Suddenly he had a
thought. Oh, no! It couldn't be. "Are you telling me that you're..."
"Yes," the figure said, shaking it's head
sadly, "I'm their son. I was there their son, I mean. I'm Tommy." He
pointed a formless finger down toward the first floor. "They killed me,
and I believe they are going to kill you."
Billy felt he had suddenly become trapped in a nightmare
and had no way to escape. It was all he could do to keep from screaming.
Downstairs, Grandma and
Grandpa went to bed after Scream was over. Grandma looked at her husband,
"What do you think?"
"About what?"
"About Billy. You think he'll make it?"
"Not a chance. The kid's a weakling. He's as good as
dead. But, if he doesn't die to night, I'll take care of him in the
morning." He reached into his nightstand draw and took out a 12" long
hunting knife and held it up. "This should do the trick."
Grandma laughed. She liked a take charge guy and her
husband certainly was one of those. "Should I turn on the gas?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
She reached for a valve behind her nightstand next to the
wall and twisted it open. The two of them had rigged it up years ago to get rid
of their son Tommy. It fed gas up to the upstairs attic through a hose hidden
in the duct work. By morning Tommy was dead from asphyxiation. The same thing
would happen to Billy tonight. It was fun for them to think about killing
someone again and the grandparents fell asleep with smiles on their faces.
Morning couldn't come soon enough.
The apparition Tommy
told Billy what had happened so many years ago. When he was finished with his
story he said, "Billy, you've got to watch out for yourself. Those are bad
people."
Billy thought about it for a minute. He'd never liked his
grandparents: they were mean to him and they were mean to his mom. Finding out
they'd killed their only son was the final straw. "What should I do?"
Johnny floated over to a heat register in the floor and
pointed, "Here's where the gas is coming in." He bent down.
"It's on right now. I can hear it."
Billy leaped out of bed and joined his new friend at the
register. "What should we do?"
Tommy smiled. "I have an idea."
Early that morning,
just as dawn was breaking, Billy stood outside in the street watching the scene
unfold. There were three fire trucks, an ambulance and five squad cars. He
watched with interest as two body bags were removed and put in the ambulance.
There wasn't much left of his grandparents.
"Are you doing okay, son," a kindly police
officer asked and pointed. "At least they found your grandparents."
Billy nodded, and tried to appear properly solemn,
"Yes, officer, I've fine. Did someone get a hold of my mom?"
"Yes, she's been called and is on her way."
"Good."
"In the meantime we'll take you to the hospital to
get you checked out." He gave Billy the once over, "You look pretty
good, though."
"Yeah, I was lucky," he said. "I was
outside looking for the cat when the house exploded."
"I didn't know a cat lived here."
Billy smiled, the lies coming easier. "Not many
people did. He was kind of quiet."
The office gave Billy a look and then patted him on the
shoulder. "I find someone to take you to the hospital."
"That's great. Thanks."
Billy moved off to the side to wait. His mom would be
there in a few hours to take him home and he was looking forward to it. He
hadn't seen Tommy since the explosion and that was too bad because he wanted to
thank him. His plan had been a good one. Tommy told Billy that his grandfather
always smoked the remainder of his cigar at some point during the night. One
flick of his lighter was all it took. His grandparents were mean people, not to
mention murderers, and deserved what they got.
Billy smiled. It was a good feeling knowing he'd never
have to come back again. He smiled. "Thanks, Tommy," he said under
his breath. "Thanks a lot." It was good to know someone like Tommy.
And it didn't matter one bit if his new friend was real or not.
