Short Stories By Me

The Attic

Another prompt from teachers! Because apparently I'm too lazy to do anything unless someone tells me to do something! I did add to it. Made it more gruesome. Also, trigger warning for death/murder mention. Also description of bodies.

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"Darling, could you please get the box of photo albums down from the attic? They're in the far left corner." My mum called from the kitchen.

"Why can't you do it?" I asked.

"Because I'm busy with dinner." I looked over to the kitchen from my place at the computer desk, and, surely enough, she was preparing the ingredients for whatever we were having today.

"Why do you even need the photo albums?" I stalled.

"Because your Aunt wants to see them. Now, please, go and get the photo albums." She sharply replied, her voice clearly telling me that her patience was wearing thinner and thinner the more I stalled.

I got up from the office chair rather dramatically, sending the chair rolling a foot or two away whilst revolving. "Okay, fine." I dramatically drew out the word 'fine' in order to clearly deliver the reluctance in my voice.

I waited a few more seconds for a reply, hearing nothing, I took in as much air as possible and released it all at once in a huge sigh, thus conveying just how much I didn't want to go to the attic. I turned and began trudging up the stairs.

I've never liked going to the attic, to be completely honest, it unnerved me to no end. I never understood why, though, I've lived in this house since I was three years old, however, according to my parents, I've been reluctant towards the gargantuan, cold, damp room the entire time I've spent living here, which is really quite strange, considering I apparently had no problem with the attic of our old house, in fact, I used to play in it all the time. After we moved, during my early childhood, when my parents went to clean it out I used to run to my room and hide. The attic stills puts me on edge to this very day, but I just can't pinpoint the reason why.

Using a ladder to push the ceiling hatch open, a wave of nervousness and nausea washed over me, there was also a peculiar smell intertwining with damp, musky air. It scared me, though, it probably didn't help that I stayed up until about three in the morning watching horror movies last night.

I was half expecting some sort of terrifyingly, horrific warped version of a face to appear in the midst of the darkness, holding a bloody weapon with the attire to match. Thankfully, though, no such scene occurred.

I wearily climbed up the ladder, all too aware that there was a tremble beneath me from the old ladder with each step I took. Once I finally entered the attic, I slowly flailed one of my arms in the air, attempting to locate the string that triggered the light, once I felt the beaded string I clasped my palm around the bottom bead and yanked it down. The light flickered a few times before properly turning on.

I continued through the attic wearily, watching where I stepped, the further I got, the stronger the peculiar scent from earlier got, once I arrived at the far left corner, the stench became overwhelming, in fact, I even had to pull my jumper over my nose to attempt to dilute the smell.

I kneeled down next to the box of photo albums, I picked up the most recent one and opened it on what was meant to be my prom pictures, instead of pictures of me and my friends in our fancy dresses or suits, it was pictures of strangers who's features had been so distorted that I'm sure that even if I did know them, they wouldn't be recognisable. All of the strangers had a chunk of their head missing and multiple appendages had been amputated, along with other torturous injuries. Most of the pictures looked very old, only some of them had colour.

There was a piece of paper in one of the picture slots. It says to 'look to the left', I looked, it was a horrifying sight, my mother and father in the same state as the people from the pictures.

I didn't bother suppressing the bile, I pulled my jumper off of my face and the smell hit me hard. I emptied the contents of my stomach and once again began to look up, on the floor in front of my parents were pictures of them in their current state. I assumed the pictures were to be added with the others.

I heard an eerie, echoing giggle. I turned to see what looked like my mother, but her features started morphing into a girl with long black hair, grey skin, sunken in eyes and an impossibly thin physique.

"You're next."

She lifted up a sledge hammer and swung it, it hit me on the head hard, pain surged from the place where it hit, it hadn't knocked me out though.

Tears flowed as I crawled away, desperately trying to get past her and to a phone to call for help.

"Where are you going? I haven't eaten in ages. You and your parents are going to be my feast." She declared.

She swung the sledge hammer again. At my foot this time. It hit my ankle and I screamed in pain. I could feel the bones crushing, but I continued on, desperate for help. I only got a few steps further before she swung again, hitting my other ankle, another tortured scream erupted from my throat, she giggled in response.

I persistently dragged myself further. Dark spots began to cloud my vision and a quiet ringing could now be heard.

"You're fun to play with, but I'm too hungry to wait much longer. So I'm ending you now, okay?" She said before giggling once more, she was slightly muffled by the ringing though.

She skipped up next to me as I struggled to move a centimetre, she lifted the sledge hammer once more, and delivered the strongest blow yet to my neck, shattering my spine and killing me.