Poltergeist In The Attic

She glanced at the ceiling again. The pull cord had stopped moving. “You’re worried about it.”

“I’m worried about you climbing a ladder in a house we barely know.”

“There isn’t even a ladder.”

“That’s another reason not to go.”

Ruby folded her arms. “You keep looking at the hatch.”

Sarah’s mouth tightened. “I keep looking because it keeps making noise.”

The latch slammed again.

Sarah flinched so hard the bookcase behind her rocked. Ruby heard the metal click and then the soft thud of the hatch settling back into place.

Neither of them spoke.

From the living room came the scrape of something heavy across the floor. Ruby turned toward the sound. One of the framed pictures they had hung that morning tilted on its nail.

“Mom,” she whispered.

“I see it.”

The picture slid sideways.

Sarah crossed the hall in three quick steps and caught it just before it fell. The frame struck her palm. She winced but held on.

“It’s loose,” she said.

“The nail was straight.”

“It wasn’t.”

Ruby looked at the wall. The nail still sat firmly in the plaster. Beneath it, a pale square showed where the frame had covered the paint.

Sarah lowered the picture. “Go find your shoes.”

“I want to see the attic.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Ruby had heard that voice before, when storms rattled the windows or when Sarah woke from a bad dream. It was the voice she used when she wanted to sound like nothing frightened her.

A small wooden block rolled out of the living room.

It crossed the hallway by itself.

Ruby watched it bump against her sneaker.

Sarah did not move. The block rocked once, then stopped.

“Did you push that?” Sarah asked.

Ruby stared at her. “I was standing here.”

Sarah bent and picked it up. Her fingers trembled around the block. “The floor isn’t level.”

“It came from the living room.”

“Things roll.”

“Across the hall?”

“Ruby.”

The attic hatch slammed so loudly that the picture in Sarah’s hand jumped. This time, the cord whipped in a circle.

Sarah dropped the frame.

Glass burst across the floor.

Ruby cried out and stepped backward. A sharp piece skittered beneath the table. Sarah stared at the broken picture, breathing through her nose.

“It’s okay,” she said, though her voice shook. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

Ruby looked up. “You said it was just a loose nail.”

“I know what I said.”

“Then check the attic.”

Sarah pressed her lips together. “There’s nothing up there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I can feel it.”

The answer slipped out before she could stop it.

Ruby’s fear changed shape. Until then, she had wanted to prove Sarah was overreacting. She had wanted to climb the stairs, look into the dusty room, and find a raccoon or a broken window or some other ordinary thing. Something that could be named.

But Sarah was staring at the hatch as if it had stared back.

Ruby reached for her hand. “If we go together, it can’t scare us.”

Sarah looked down at their joined hands. “That isn’t how scary things work.”

“Then how do they work?”

Sarah had no answer.

A soft knock came from above them.

Three taps.

Ruby felt the sound in the soles of her feet.

Sarah pulled her close. “Back downstairs.”

Another three taps answered from the attic.

Ruby’s fingers tightened around Sarah’s. “It wants us to open it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What else could it be?”

“Pipes. Birds. The roof settling.”

“Birds don’t knock.”

Sarah moved toward the kitchen, pulling Ruby with her. The hallway seemed longer than it had a moment before. Boxes crowded both sides, leaving only a narrow path beneath the hatch.

The cord began to sway again.

Ruby looked behind her.

The attic hatch was opening.

It lifted a fraction, then another. A black line appeared between the door and the ceiling. Dust sifted down in a thin stream.

Sarah stopped.

“Mom,” Ruby said.

“I’m here.”

The hatch rose another inch.

Sarah pushed Ruby behind her. “Stay back.”

A pale shape slid from the gap and dropped onto the hallway floor. It was a small metal key, the kind that belonged to an old lock. It struck the boards, spun in a bright circle, and came to rest against Sarah’s bare foot.

Sarah looked at it without bending down.

Ruby whispered, “It brought us a key.”

“No.”

The hatch slammed shut.

The impact sent a tremor through the ceiling. The key jumped, spun again, and slid away from Sarah toward the stairs.

Ruby took one step after it.

“Don’t,” Sarah said.

The key stopped at the first stair.

Ruby could not stop looking at it. “We need to know what’s up there.”

“We need to leave the house.”

“We just moved in.”

“I don’t care.”

Sarah grabbed the nearest box and shoved it beneath the hatch. Then she pulled another box beside it. The cardboard scraped the floor. Ruby helped, dragging a box of blankets into place.

“Hold it there,” Sarah said.

“Hold what?”

“The door.”

Ruby looked up. The hatch pressed against the top of the boxes. Something moved on the other side.

A slow scrape crossed the wood.

Sarah’s hands shook as she pushed harder. “Dad will be back soon.”

“He went to get the truck.”

“He’ll be back.”

The scrape stopped.

Ruby heard a faint sound above them, almost like a child humming.

She looked at Sarah. “Did you hear that?”

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “No.”

The box beneath the hatch buckled.

Sarah shoved Ruby toward the stairs. “Go downstairs.”

“But - ”

“Now.”

The hatch burst open.

The boxes flew outward. One slammed into the wall, and another struck Sarah’s knee. She cried out and fell against the banister.

Ruby ran to her. “Are you hurt?”

“My leg.” Sarah gripped the rail. “I’m all right.”

Above them, the attic yawned open. A folding ladder dropped from the ceiling with a hard metal clatter. Its steps unfolded one by one until the bottom touched the hallway floor.

No one had pulled it down.

Ruby stared into the dark opening. The attic smelled of dust and cold wood. A pale strip of daylight showed through a small window at the far end, but most of the room was hidden behind beams and hanging insulation.

Something moved up there.

Not a person. Not a bird.

A stack of loose papers lifted near the opening and fluttered in a slow circle. One sheet drifted down. It landed at Ruby’s feet.

There were dark marks across it, like fingerprints made from soot.

Sarah pulled Ruby against her. “We’re going downstairs.”

Ruby saw the marks continue across the hallway floor. They began near the attic ladder and led toward the opening, small and dusty, as if someone had climbed up with dirty hands.

“Mom,” she said. “Look.”

Sarah followed the marks with her eyes.

They reached the first step.

Then they stopped.

Sarah’s breath caught. “Don’t go up.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

The attic gave a soft creak.

A picture frame fell from the wall behind them.

Sarah spun around. The frame struck the floor and broke. Another frame shook on its nail. The glass inside it trembled with a faint, ringing sound.

Ruby clung to Sarah’s sleeve. “We have to close it.”

Sarah stared at the open hatch. “It won’t stay closed.”

“Then hold it.”

“Ruby - ”

“Please.”

The second picture tore free.

Sarah made her choice. She pushed Ruby behind her and climbed the folding ladder.

“Mom!”

“I’m only shutting it,” Sarah said. “Stay on the floor.”

The ladder groaned beneath her weight. Ruby watched her reach the attic opening and grab the edge of the hatch. Sarah pulled it down.

The darkness above shifted.

A small red ball rolled from the attic and bumped down the ladder steps.

Ruby knew that ball. It had been in her bedroom box, packed beneath her winter clothes. She had not opened that box yet.

The ball reached the floor and stopped beside Ruby’s foot.

Sarah saw it.

Her face changed. The last bit of color left her cheeks.

“Ruby,” she said quietly, “don’t touch it.”

The attic door came down another inch.

Then a sudden force shoved it upward.

Sarah cried out and held on. The hatch slammed against her hands. She nearly lost her balance.

Ruby stepped toward the ladder. “I’m coming up.”

“No!”

The word cracked through the hall.

Sarah pulled with both hands. Her knee struck the top rung. The hatch fought her, rising and falling in quick jerks, as if something on the other side wanted out.

Ruby grabbed the ladder to steady it.

The metal was icy beneath her fingers.

“Pull it down!” Sarah shouted.

Ruby reached up and pushed against the hatch. The wood felt warm now, almost feverish. Beneath her palm, something tapped once.

Then twice.

She pulled away.

Sarah saw her face. “What happened?”

“Something’s there.”

Sarah did not ask what she meant. She pressed her shoulder into the hatch and forced it down. Ruby climbed one step, then another, and shoved beside her.

Together they brought it nearly closed.

The humming stopped.

For one second, the house was still.

Sarah let out a broken breath. “Good. Good, we have it.”

Ruby looked down at the hallway.

The red ball was gone.

So was the key.

The boxes they had dragged beneath the hatch now sat against the far wall. The broken picture frame had moved from the floor to the bottom stair. The dusty marks had changed direction.

They led from the attic ladder to Ruby.

Sarah saw them too.

She pulled Ruby upward, and Ruby climbed onto the attic floor. Sarah followed, then seized the hatch and dragged it down behind them.

The attic became dark except for the thin light from the window.

Ruby pressed close to Sarah. “We’re inside.”

Sarah’s hand found Ruby’s shoulder. “I know.”

The hatch shuddered beneath them.

Ruby looked around. Old furniture crouched beneath sheets. Boxes leaned in uneven towers. A child’s red ball sat in the center of the floor.

Sarah reached for the pull cord.

Before she could touch it, the ball rolled across the dusty boards.

It stopped at Ruby’s shoes.

Then the loose papers beside it began sliding toward them, one after another, without a hand, without a breeze, whispering over the floor as the attic door slammed shut.

End of chapter one. 39 more chapters in the full book.