Creepy Attic
Ghost Story
A few years ago, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in Melbourne, Australia. I was living alone for the first time. The apartment complex the I lived in was constructed in the 1930s. I had only been there for a few months when I entered the house after work one day.
As I walked in, I caught an unusual sight: A wooden board that had protected a ceiling hole leading to a little attic space was now broken into two pieces and lying on the floor. I looked over these broken pieces of wood trying to determine what had happened. I felt that it would have required an act of a person like Bruce Lee to break the inch-thick board. I thought someone had been dispatched by the landlord to work on the attic and just had forgotten to pick up the broken pieces of wood after finishing up whatever they were doing. Even though this may have been a plausible explanation of what could have possibly happened, it was doubtful that this was the reason, so I was paralyzed by fear. There must be someone up there, I later reasoned.
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I sent the landlord images and a question in an email asking if anyone had been there. I then got a response email from her asking me to call her as soon as I could. I did just that, and my landlord said that the same thing had happened to the last two tenants that resided in that apartment. This of course sent chills down my spine. My landlord reassured me that the board would be put back up.
However, I woke up one night at about 4 a.m. a month later. Goose bumps appeared all over my body. I had the impression that someone was rubbing hands with me. Then, out of the silence, I picked up a dragging sound coming from above my bed. It appeared as though someone was tugging a potato sack. I froze because I thought someone was in the air. No animal could possibly produce such noise. After waiting for five minutes, I mustered the confidence to switch on the light, grabbed a cricket bat, and went to the restroom.
I then noticed that the newly installed board covering the hole had split in half. I felt sick to my stomach. Someone had to be residing in this apartment. The sound of dragging had stopped. However, I also heard whispering. The attic was the source of the audible noise. It sounded like children’s voices, and one phrase kept coming up: “It’s your turn…” Your turn is now.
To make the apartment feel more natural, I turned on every light in the apartment. It is now 5 a.m. and it was still dark outside. I tried to relax by watching TV. Then a fuse went out. Dexter, my pet bird that I kept in the kitchen, didn’t typically make noise at night, but he suddenly began squawking like he was being choked. He was screaming, and I had never heard him make that kind of noise before. I raced outside, grabbed my car keys, and sat in it till the sun had come up.
Seeing folks out and about with their pets gave me enough solace to enter again. I assumed that I might have neglected to close the front door as I ran out because it was open. I walked to the kitchen to see if Dexter was in his cage, but he wasn’t. I once more felt ill and goosebumps once again popped up all over my body. I gazed throughout the house even though all of my windows were shut. I heard splashing as I made my way to the restroom. Dexter was drowning in the bathroom sink. I picked him out of the sink and dried him as I carried him outside. I was totally baffled. I contacted the landlord at eight in the morning and gave her a condensed account of the previous night. Oh my goodness, you caught the whispering too, she exclaimed.
I remained there for an additional 18 months. Several times, I overheard whispering, and twice, the board covering the ceiling hole shifted. I now reside elsewhere, but the landlord just called. She claimed that some of the things going on there had made her new tenants want to speak with me about them. I did not want to relive that horrible experience once again so I ignored their pleas for a conversation about what had happened when I lived there.
