Tommy pulled the covers higher around his body, but not to protect him from the cold chill in his room. No, it was to hide him from the monsters. The monsters his parents said weren’t there. They had even shown him that there was no way for anything to get around in the attic above his room, but he didn’t believe it. There was something up there, skittering and crawling, breathing in the walls. It wanted him.
He was sure of it. Why else didn’t his parents hear it? They were just down the hall and the attic spread over their room too. Surely if there were a creature up there as benign as they claimed, occasionally it would bother them as well. His parents had continued, at Tommy’s persistence of course, to check to see if there were animals crawling in the attic. They had patched up an old hole in the roof they’d found from the woodwork. The exterminator said he hadn’t found any feces (a fancy word, his parents explained, for poop) so there weren’t any squirrels or pigeons taking shelter inside of their attic.
Well it had to be a ghost then. Or a monster. Tommy was convinced it was likely a monster. Ghosts couldn’t scratch like that against the walls, he’d seen that on that TV show where the two plumbers went around to investigate haunting. They said it took a lot of energy even for a ghost to make a knock! In this case he’d take the monster over the ghost anyway. If the ghost was strong enough to scratch at the walls and breathe at him through the ceiling then it was one scary ghost. A monster at least he could throw a hockey puck he kept in his drawer near his bed at.
“Not there…” His whisper seemed almost as loud as regular talking as he pulled the blanket over his face. The scratching persisted, almost as more of a taunt than was necessary. The creature was moving, all over above his room, searching for something. It had to be sneaky, or even invisible if his parents didn’t see it. Or maybe it just hid in that foam stuff that filled between all the attic beams. That was the other reason his dad had told him there was nothing up there. He said that it was too hard for an animal to survive up there, nonetheless a monster.
But there was a monster and it was trying to get to him every night. One night it would scratch so much that it would break through the ceiling and unleash all hell upon him. He felt guilty for even using that word in his mind, but it was the only thing he could think to describe it. He never said it out loud, his parents said he was too little for grown up talk. But he figured he was old enough for it in his head, that way no one could hear it and get upset.
Scritch, scratch, scrape.
“That’s it!” Tommy cried, but not loud enough to wake his parents. He got up from his covers and put on his Darth Vader slippers. He didn’t want to get splinters in his bare feet when he went up into the attic. His dad had told him that he couldn’t hide from what scared him, he had to go and face it. So that was what he was going to do! He was going to go right up into that attic and show that monster who was boss.
Of course he was going to bring his baseball bat with him. Just in case the monster didn’t want to be told what to do. His dad had told him he had a “pretty damn good swing” so he thought it would be okay. More guilt for cursing. Surely no one would realize he’d done it, but he’d put two dimes in the swear jar the next morning anyway.
He crept out of his room, bat in his hands like he was ready to swing. He walked up the narrow staircase to the old attic. When they had moved in his dad had told him that the attic would be less scary than the one they had in their old house that had the pull down staircase that screeched like a big scary monster. He was so wrong. He missed the old screechy attic door with the cool swing down ladder. Plus there were no monsters in that attic.
He opened the scary door and left it open. If the monster didn’t like the baseball at, he’d run out and close the door and yell for his parents. It seemed like a good enough plan. He crept slowly inside. The moon was shining in from the singular round window against the wall, showing him where all the beams were. There was no monster, but there was no sound either. It was just playing tricks on him, it had to be in there somewhere. He tip toed onto the landing and waited there for a few moments.
“Hello? Mister Monster?” He whispered in a scared and quivering voice. Something from the left skittered. Or was it the right? Tommy looked all around but saw nothing.
“I know I have a bat but I’m not gonna hurt you. We can be friends… but you have to stop scaring me?” Against his better judgment he balanced himself on one of the beams. Maybe if he got closer to whatever was making the noise, he could see it and prove to his parents that there really was a monster living in the attic. Then they could move back to their old house with the only creepy attic.
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