The Woman in The Attic

~1967~

Betsy and her husband were mild-mannered average income citizens living in a two story home with an attic on a common street. Their lives were average, their family  was average, their house was average and they were proud to say it. 

They welcomed a beautiful son as soon as they moved in, but stumbled upon fertility problems and couldn't conceive a second. This put a strain on the marriage internally, but to the neighbourhood and all their friends, they continued to be the image of perfection. They poured their love into their son and not each other, and this caused him to feel as though he must strive to match their image. Though they fought without pause, he tried his hardest to keep up. Eventually, it became too much and one night, while they were fighting downstairs he left his room to go to the attic. 

He was a clever boy, and he had already devised a plan having had lots of time alone while his parents fought. Tonight, he decided, was the night. He set about wrapping the rope in the right way, hanging off the ceiling beams and fastened it around his neck. He then called for his parents, in one final attempt for them to care about him. He stood atop a wooden crate, counted from 10 out loud and then kicked it out from under his feet. 

His mother and father had heard all the noise from the attic and decided to check it out. They climbed the ladder to go in, the mother going first. It was then she saw it, her innocent boy Josh, hanged by a noose of his own. She couldn't stand the sight of his face so blue, his chest unmoving. She fell to the ground with a very loud thud. His father stepped over Betsy, thinking she had simply fainted. He dialled the number for emergency and took his son via ambulance to the hospital. Not wanting to pay a fee for his wife 'passing out' he did nothing. When he hadn't heard from her for a few days, he checked the attic. Her mouth was still agape and had since filled with maggots, cockroaches, spiders and other bugs. 

~2020~ 

We had heard all the rumours about the house before, but it was so beautiful and cheap. It was in the perfect location too and besides, who would be scared off by a silly campfire ghost story? We moved our family in the first day we were there. Once we finally had all the rooms set up, the neighbours stopped trying to warn us off. To us, this meant the stories were fake and the house was ghost-free. 

It only took two more nights before we all started hearing the voices. Josh had told me about 'the woman in the attic' and how she came to visit him at night. I didn't believe him, I checked under his bed and in his wardrobe for monsters and when I found none, I kissed him goodnight. One morning, he told she wanted him to kill himself so she could have Josh back. It scared me to hear my son say things like that, but I figured he had just picked it up from one of his friends at school. This was until I got too curious, he was off at school with Lily and Brandon and Harry was at work so it was just me. I snuck into my sons room and just listened, I knew it wasn't real but I needed to confirm with myself that there was no woman in the attic. 

Suddenly, I heard this voice, screeching but quiet at the same time, whispering inside my ear, "bring me Josh". The voice never mentioned a time or a place but I knew what to do. For the rest of my day, I felt like it wasn't myself thinking inside my own mind. My voice telling me to take Josh to the attic nut not my brain thinking the thoughts. So I waited until he fell asleep.

I waited and I waited until finally, I was sure he was out. The voice grew louder as I got closer to Josh's room, more urgent. I grabbed him out of bed and carried him up the stairs. He didn't make a fuss, I was his mom after all and he still trusted me completely. I wanted to let him go, I wanted my voice to stop telling me to continue. We ended up in the attic but I don't know how. 

There was a rope, still swinging as if someone had just touched it. I took a few steps closer and a woman came out. I noticed her mouth before anything else, it was wide open, and dead bugs spilled out. She stared at me, her eyes glassy and wet with tear tracks all the way down her stretched to the bone and slightly anaemic looking skin. Blue veins stuck out and she had grey hair, choppily cut at the shoulders and frizzed out around her like she had rubbed a balloon on her head. 

I let my child go onto the floor and he walked straight over to the woman. She whispered into his ear and he went over to the rope. He put one foot in front of the other, but it seemed almost mechanical. His knees didn't bend when he took his steps and his arms stayed perfectly still, hanging at his sides. I couldn't seem to move my legs, or my mouth, I could just watch in silent horror as the woman tightened the rope around his neck and  then, simply let go of him. He fell, the rope so tight around his neck. I watched as  his face slowly  turned purple and his eyes closed. Then there was silence. The woman was gone and so was my boy. 

In the morning I woke, unsure of how I got into my bed and for a second I closed my eyes in blissful ignorance, letting the sun soak over my  face. Then I remembered what had happened last night and I heard, for the last time, my sons voice "Betsy is taking good care of him now. Goodbye Victoria."