In all the years I’ve been in this house, I’ve only seen an apparition a few times. More often, I’ve heard voices, footsteps, doors slam and felt the freezing drafts, but rarely anything visual.
But I know what I just saw.
A woman in a white dress with tight blonde curls. I didn’t see her face, but there’s a distinct feeling that it was Gigi.
Nearly dropping my phone rushing after her, I run down the hall and swing the attic door open. It’s pitch black leading up the stairs, and there’s that nervous tickle in the back of my brain, but it doesn’t stop me.
I tap the flashlight on my phone and quickly make my way up the stairs. A heavy weight of foreboding presses down on my shoulders, but I trudge through it. Whoever that was, they wanted me to see something. I shiver from the feeling, both in fear and delight.
The moment I step on the landing, it feels like breathing in water. The air up here is stifling and heavy, rife with negativity.
It feels like something dark has consumed this space. And it doesn’t like me up here. I can feel it staring at me from every angle.
There’s a single bulb up here somewhere with a long string attached to it. I swivel my flashlight around until I spot the string.
It’s swinging back and forth in an attic with no airflow and where the atmosphere feels denser than the woods outside of this manor.
Rushing over, I grab the swinging string and yank on it, clicking on the light bulb. A whirring sound breaks through the silence, adding an extra note of spookiness.
I squint my eyes, readying myself to see some scary monster hiding in the corner, but nothing is up here.
At least, not that I can see.
“Why did you lead me up here, Gigi?” I ask aloud, looking around the area and trying to figure out what I could possibly see up here.
Of course, I don’t receive an answer. It’s never that simple.
My eyes track over every dusty item cluttering the space. I have completely avoided coming up here and even opted out of renovating this space. I don't know what it was, but I felt like if I did, then something evil would be unleashed.
I already have enough monsters haunting me.
There’s an old, cracked mirror in the corner with a white sheet hanging partially over it. I make sure to avoid looking at it at all costs. I love to be scared, but I still don’t have any desire to see a demon standing behind me in the mirror.
Loads of dusty boxes and totes are scattered throughout the area. It’s a fairly big room, so there’s a lot of places to look.
Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I take a deep breath, feeling like I just filled my lungs with toxic waste. And then, I head over to one of the boxes and start digging.
They’re covered in cobwebs, and I almost consider going down to the bottom floor and finding a pair of gloves. But I don’t want to stop when I’m already committed. I might convince myself not to come back up once I’m no longer sharing space with something malicious.
Ignoring the spiders scattering from the boxes, I keep digging. All I find are old clothes, shoes, trinkets, and knick-knacks.
Nothing of importance, but maybe a few of these things could be valuable.
A loud bang sounds from behind me, and this time I scream loudly. The echo of my scream rings out as I whip around and face whatever made the noise.
Nothing’s there but a dangling wooden board, hanging on by a single nail. The entirety of the attic is made up of wooden boards, most of them rotted and chewed up by mice. Where the wooden board once was is a bottomless black hole.
“You want me to stick my hand in there, don’t you?” I say dryly, glancing around to see if I spot another hint of Gigi. Still not looking in that fucking mirror, though.
Hand over my pounding heart, I carefully walk over to the still swinging wood. Grabbing my phone and turning on the flashlight once more, I shine the light inside the hole.
It’s a platform, and deep in the hole looks like two pieces of crinkled paper.
I groan aloud. “Fuck, you’re really going to make me stick my hand in there?”
Bugs don’t usually creep me out. There’s not a lot of things in this world that genuinely scare me to my core. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy sticking my hand in a bug-infested hole. Furthermore, I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever negative energy resides up here decided to fuck with me and grab my hand.
I can admit I’d probably pee a little then.
Sighing, I plunge my hand in, snatch the papers and rip my hand out, all in under a second.
I almost open my mouth and gloat but decide it’s better not to piss anything off when we’re sharing the same house.
I turn, run over to the string, click off the light and dash down the stairs like the girl from The Ring is chasing after me.
Slamming the attic door shut, I take in a deep, cleansing breath of air. It’s so much lighter down here. It feels like the entire house collapsed on me, and I just crawled out from beneath it.
I smooth out the papers, squinting my eyes to make out the neat scrawl on the first one.
I did what I was told to do. Because if I didn’t, I know I’d be next. So this is my confession. I helped him cover up her murder. I’m so sorry.
My heart quickens as I read the note over and over. Whoever wrote this, they’re speaking of Gigi's murder. They must be. Who helped him cover up the murder? Who is him?
Switching to the other note, it takes only a second to realize it’s the page ripped out of her diary. I smile triumphantly, but the smile quickly drops as I read the messy words.
I have to be quick, he said he’s on his way and I’m terrified. If I run, he’ll catch me so I’m writing this note down in hopes someone will find it. If something happens to me, John, it wa
The note ends there, not even finishing the last word. My mouth drops open in shock as I stare down at it in utter disbelief.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Gigi! You leave it off there? That’s what you wanted to show me? A note where you’re about to say who it is BUT DON’T?” I finish my rant on a loud shout, stomping my foot and flaring my arms wide.
Of course, she doesn’t answer me.
Growling dramatically, I stomp my way into the bedroom and slam the door shut.
I’m mad at her now. She better not come in here, or I’m kicking her right back out.
He’s outside again. Watching me, a bright red cherry blaring in the moonlight.
I stare back at him. The familiar tendrils of fear have me tightly in their grip. But also, the bricks are settled in my stomach, sinking lower…
I chew my lip, contemplating if I should confront him again or not. Picking up my phone and reporting him would be the logical thing to do.
But the police won’t be able to do anything. By the time they get here, he’ll be gone again.
And what good will a police report do when they come up missing like last time? With his apparent breaking and entering skills, not to mention hacking skills, he’s obviously tampering with shit. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Sheriff Walters knows I have a stalker, despite him saying they had no record of it.
Maybe that’s all the more reason to call.
He’s probably planning on murdering me right now, just like Gigi’s stalker murdered her. I’ve read over that note and combed through her diaries for the past three nights, but I haven’t seen any evidence of her stalker being the murderer yet.