Whispers on the Coral Row

Day Three: Out of sight, Out of mind!

Something woke me up. I glanced at my phone, and its dim glow revealed the ungodly hour of 2 a.m. Yet, I knew I hadn't imagined it.

A distinct thud shattered the silence, echoing through the darkness. Panic seized me. My heart was racing as I fixated on the source: the attic.

There was movement, and it was unmistakable. This wasn't a trick of my mind; it was real.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I ventured out into the hallway. 

The attic door loomed open, a gaping maw of uncertainty. As I climbed the stairs, I braced myself for the confrontation.

It was common for critters to find refuge in the attic, but this felt different. As I reached for the light switch, a putrid stench assaulted my senses, overpowering and repugnant.

 The scene inside was unsettling; someone had disturbed and rearranged things.

In a trembling voice, I ventured, "Is anyone here?" Anticipating silence, I pressed on.

In the distance, the faint squeaks of rats reached my ears, causing disgust to churn in my stomach. Every small sound made me jump and put my nerves on edge.

As I continued exploring, my gaze fell upon a painting adorning the wall.

Moving deeper into the attic, I stumbled upon a dusty book, its pages yellowed with age. It seemed to be an ancient diary, with its weathered cover bearing numerous numbers and addresses.

Advancing further, I flipped through the pages of the diary, noting a few addresses referencing this very house.

But why would someone write their own address in their diary? I mused, dismissing it as peculiar.

Using the book, I cleared away the cobwebs obstructing my path. Suddenly, a box shifted, revealing a rat that scurried into another crate. I felt a wave of revulsion wash over me as I beheld the sight.

Considering the expansive attic and the late hour, I resolved to retreat, convinced that the commotion stemmed from the rats shifting boxes.

As I made my way back, something caught my eye. I observed that someone had moved the painting on the wall, shifting its position slightly. 

Confusion gnawed at me; with no one else present besides me and the rats, there seemed to be no logical explanation for the painting's movement.

Then, from a distance, a whisper pierced the silence—unintelligible yet chilling. Fear gripped me, rendering me unable to turn and confront the source.

I sprinted back to the attic door, slamming it shut behind me before racing to my room.

Locking the door, I hurled myself onto the bed, burying myself beneath the blankets. Exhausted and trembling, I succumbed to sleep, the events of the night lingering in my thoughts.

I heard Mom's voice calling my name faintly, repeatedly. Opening my eyes, I glanced beside me, then flipped to my other side, attempting to return to sleep.

"What happened, dear? Is everything alright?" she asked, concern evident in her tone.

"I need to get some sleep, Mom. My night wasn't great," I replied.

She informed me it was already 11, but I resisted waking up. After she left, I managed to sleep for another hour. By noon, I joined Josh and Tim in the living room, where they were watching TV.

Sitting next to Josh on the couch, he inquired, "You woke up so late. Is everything alright?" His expression conveyed a mix of confusion, concern, and... fear.

"Yeah, all good. I, um, just had a nightmare," I explained. He nodded and returned his focus to the television.

The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. I was surprised to find Tina and Sebastian standing there.

"Heyy, hi," they greeted. I waved in response and asked where they were headed.

"We were planning on going fishing. You want to join us?" they offered.

"Umm, I really wish I could join you guys, but I'll not be able to..."

Just then, Andrea's voice echoed from a distance, screaming my name. Chuckling at the sight, I turned to see her approaching with her friends Beck and Mike.

"How did you know where I live?" she pointed at Tina, revealing their friendship. This impromptu gathering unfolded on the front porch.

"Oh, won't you come in?" I invited them, but they declined, stating they were leaving. I bid them farewell as they departed.

I was glad to see them, but as I turned towards the door, a startled gasp nearly escaped me when I found Mom standing there. 

"Mom! You scared me!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry, I just arrived," she said with a laugh.

Curious about the visitors, she joined me inside, pleased that I had found friends."

Suddenly, we heard the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. Locking eyes, we both knew it must be Tim. 

Amidst our conversation, we made our way to the kitchen, only to find Tim absent from the scene of the crime. We shared a chuckle at his antics.

Mom instructed me to fetch the broom from the basement while she carefully picked up the glass fragments. Initially hesitant, I eventually relented and made my way to the basement, which is accessible from the kitchen. 

The darkness enveloped me as I descended the stairs, prompting me to use my phone's flashlight.

The basement was already cluttered with items left by the previous owner. I couldn't fathom why he abandoned most of his belongings in this house.

My eyes fell upon an ancient rocking chair tucked away in the corner. It seemed like a cliché from a horror tale, but I brushed off the thought.

As I rummaged through the items, my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts. 

"Hey, come help me with this," she called.

I left the basement, shutting the door behind me. Meanwhile, Tim wandered into the kitchen, asking for water.

"What's with the mess?" my mother asked him, her tone stern. Tim shrugged, denying any involvement in the broken glass incident.

"Tim, come on, just tell us what happened," I urged, trying to keep my tone gentle. He remained tight-lipped. I exchanged a glance with my mother, silently communicating our shared concern.

Just then, Josh entered the kitchen, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyeing Tim. Tim looked at him pleadingly.

"Tell them I was with you the whole time," he implored.

"Yeah, he was," he confirmed. Josh frowned, turning to me for an explanation.

I recounted the situation, feeling a chill creep down my spine as I spoke. My mother's face mirrored my growing apprehension, while Josh's expression shifted from confusion to concern. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, painting a picture I never wanted to see.