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“Uhm, so yeah, I can look around, it’s no problem but where was the chair again? Do you still feel like someone is watching you?”
“Up in the attic. I'll take you guys up there.” She gets up, grabbing her drink as we follow suit. “I haven’t felt weird since we took the chair out of the house but just knowing that there was a reason…” She trails off while she leads us down the hall. I take in the history and the character of the home. Original crown molding and beautiful hardwood floors. When we get to the top of the stairs, there is already a set of rickety drop stairs pulled down for us at the end of the hall leading up to the attic. Looking into the open space from the ground, it always looks ominous. I don't know what it is about the basement and attic doors in houses but they are creepy…every time. There's never an exception.
I walk forward and start to climb the attic stairs not waiting for an invitation. I look below me as I feel a rattle and find Noah climbing up behind me not wanting to wait another minute. He probably wants to scope out all the old oddities packed away up here. I finish ascending the ladder with a huff and start swinging my hands wildly when I walk into a drifting cobweb. Noah starts laughing at my karate moves and helps remove the cobweb.
“Thank you.” I say, stepping farther into the attic. I start to look around searching for anything otherworldly.
“Is everything okay up there?” Mischa hollers.
“Yeah, I'm not seeing anything. It's safe to come up if you'd like.” I yell back. I start walking around some more, climbing over some old boxes. I hear Mischa climb the ladder and look to see her tentatively peek over the top of the stairs. When she deems the space okay herself; she finishes climbing into the attic.
“We haven't really gone through up here. I could never get up the stairs, a visceral fear would just come over me. I had to have Tanner come up here first and then when I followed him up the chair just looked menacing.” She shakes her head. Like she is trying to rid herself of the memory. “I’ve been wanting to go through this attic. I bet there is some really cool stuff in these boxes.”
We both turn towards Noah, who has already sat down to start rifling through some very old, crumbling boxes.
“Sorry, I should have asked.” He says with a sheepish face.
“No, it’s totally fine. Look to your heart's content.”
“Noah has a thing for old things. Not so much keeping and selling the items. Just finding them. Like a pirate on a treasure hunt.” I laugh and walk through the space more.
“Same, it’s fun and exciting to see things of old.” Mischa says, looking around taking in the space.
Noah started pulling out some old clothes, dresses and bloomers. He holds the bloomers up, shaking them in my direction with a very suggestive eyebrow wiggle. I huff and roll my eyes. Ain’t no way I’d ever willingly put on those clothes. The amount of clothes women had to wear back in the day must have been stifling, sweaty and uncomfortable. I feel like one wrong step on the pier or around a lake and you would sink like a rock. I choose life, thank you.
Noah has moved onto another box when I find where the rocker had been. You can see where the dust settled around the chair over time. Two thin lines of bare wood surrounded by dust. It sits directly in front of the old window. Like an eerie reminder of what used to be. I can't feel or see anything up here that would warrant concern. No creepy little old ladies either. I think the old lady was only attached to that chair. I turn to Noah and Mischa.
“I can't see or feel anything. I think she was just attached to that chair. If you want me to go though your house I can but I just want to say I'm not a medium, I can't tell you who they are or what they are doing here. I can tell you if they look wrong but that's the extent of it. Most of it for me is just a guessing game. Anything I find on the internet I take with a grain of salt.”
“You said something like that downstairs, what do you mean ‘wrong’?”
“Sometimes ghosts, I assume–don't quote me, don't want to leave for whatever reason they may have and if they stay around for too long they turn what I call ‘feral’ for lack of a better term. They are the ones that really hurt me when they are trying to talk to me. Ghosts from this century have also hurt me too so this is not an exact science.” I look over at Noah who is going through box number five; nods his head at my comment…I think. Maybe it’s the baubles in his hand? I look around the rafters of the attic. There are some things that have been hung up; like an old lasso and a couple window frames. There’s an old metal bed frame leaning against the wall. It looks like almost everything in the boxes so far is clothes and some tchotchkes. It’s a treasure trove for collectors. I turn back to Mischa, “I can't talk to them. They have tried before but it drains all of my energy when they touch me. They use me as their energy source I guess. Sometimes they can get a word out and that’s it and the word comes out garbled. Sometimes they can leave hand prints but that's not often.”
I don’t know the reason for half this shit. The internet can't be trusted for reliable sources and this town doesn't have any others that can see ghosts. That I'm aware of anyways. If there is, they probably hide it. For good reason. I should go into the city and ask around. Maybe stop at a library or two there. An occult store would be a good stop too. I just haven’t had a reason to do so. Although, after today I probably should. Maybe I can get Noah to come with me.
I carefully walk back over to Noah and start looking over his shoulder. He's found a box of letters, cards and pictures. Most of them are hand drawn pictures of landscapes and some of my house, probably from when it was first built. I walk back over to the small window trying to look outside past the warped world the crown glass creates. One of the drawings looks like it was sketched at this vantage point. The artist did a good job considering the window they must have been looking through.
“So how do you like the town?” I ask Mischa who has also walked over to look in the box. “I don’t think I ever want to move. I love the architecture and the homey feeling this town exudes.” I walk back toward the window. “You should definitely keep these windows.”
“So far this town is lovely. We bought this house on a whim after everything went to shit when Covid hit. Our jobs luckily were able to go one hundred percent remote. Well, we do have to drive into the city every once in a great while. But we couldn’t pass up on this beauty. A little elbow grease and she’ll shine like new.” She looked wistfully around, “I want to turn this into a giant office space for Tanner and me. The stairs will also be a nice workout every day. The window is definitely staying. I like it but maybe add some sky lights.” She ponders staring at the ceiling.
I laugh at the thought of going up and down all these stairs multiple times a day. “Yes, this would be a wonderful office space. No great lighting though the skylights shou-”
‘Dana…’
I look around and start to feel dizzy. “Noah.” Is all I can get out before I stumble and then everything goes black.
Chapter 3
Dana
I wake with a start, shooting up in bed. It takes me a long moment to figure out why I'm in my bed. Then I remember fainting in Mischa’s attic and hearing my name. Why the hell did I pass out? I need to eat better I guess. Maybe drink more water? I don't know but that’s another embarrassing moment to add to the list of shit. I take stock of my body. There’s no noticeable wounds. I check my head and it feels fine. No goose eggs to be felt. I do notice I’m tired. Not so tired I want to hole up in my bed for the next week, more like I need a good long nap. I look out the window and there’s still daylight so hopefully I wasn’t out long.
I look around and see Noah dozing in my reading chair next to my bed. I scoot to the edge of the bed to wake him up. His ankle is crossed over a knee so I gently grab his calf and gently shake his leg. His eyes pop open and he just stares at me. Looking startled and letting out a big huff. He leans forward and grabs my face and says “Could you not do that again? That’d be great, thank you” He looks me over, lifting my arms and tilting my face side to side. I try to shake him off but his grip on my chin gets stronger. “You scared the shit out of me. I didn't know if I should have called 911 or just brought you home. We checked your breathing and your pulse. Everything was normal so I decided home should be fine. I checked your head and there wasn’t any blood. But damn-”
“How long was I out?” I ask, interrupting him.
“Two days Dana.” I jump out of my bed and go into panic mode. That’s not right, this is bad. At least I think it’s bad. This can’t be normal.
