The Thing in the Attic

Below is a nightmare that occurred frequently when I lived at the house on Mount Royal Blvd. At the time, the dream repeated itself so often, that I actually believed this was happening. The dream only ever occurred at that house, and once we moved away I never experienced it again.

Originally posted to my personal Facebook on December 22, 2015.

Lying in bed, the sheets closed tightly around me. I faced the wall, listening, completely still. I could hear a distant and faint whispering, mumbling something I couldn’t understand. I was scared, trying to fall asleep with all my might, but there was something in me that demanded I search for the source.

Gingerly climbing down the ladder of the bunk bed shared with my brother, I crept out of the safety of my room into the darkness. As I approached the hallway that led to the bathroom, I could hear the whispering getting louder, yet it was still indecipherable. Though I was scared, sweating and anxious, I walked calmly as though I had done this a thousand times over, and yet I did not know what I was doing.

I stepped into the darkness of the hall, looking right towards the stairwell, and left towards the bathroom. I continued to follow the whispers left, an unnatural draft pushing me softly, but with a firm pressure, towards what I feared.

I swung open the linen closet, hoping to reveal the orator, but there was nothing but towels, some toilet paper, and a… a door? A door. Like the one used to get into the attic. Except, this wasn’t the door to the attic. By now the still unintelligible whispers had become angrier, more restless, and were practically being spoken directly into my ears.

I had no choice, whatever was making these noises was through that little door.

Slowly, I pushed the door open, and brought myself up with it. My muscles strained, and I managed to poke my head into the room. I immediately regretted what I had done. Everything around me felt unnatural. The room itself was bright white, not painted, but pure white. In the center of this pure, seemingly unending box, was a figure.

It was crouched over, holding itself. It was pale, almost translucent, with scratches and blood covering its body. Although I immediately identified the creature as the source of the whispers, the creature was not moving. It looked dead sitting there, not even breathing. My lungs tensed up, and it became hard to breathe. The scent of death filled my nostrils, and I could hardly support myself. I was barely given time to recover though, as the stillness of the room was broken.

The creature’s back and skin began to stretch, its head standing straight up, though it remained crouched. Its head began to turn, towards… me. The whispering stopped, and I was met by the most disturbing things I have ever seen. Its face, bar the nostrils and creased lips, was completely bare. Its skin was tight around its bones, and it looked like it could barely move.

Quicker than any man could react, the creature began bounding towards me. Its flesh stretching over twisted joints, the feeble and unnatural freak edged closer with every stride. Quickly, I dived below, shutting the door behind me. The smacking of flesh and scratching of claws on wood could be heard for a few moments, before quickly fading away.

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