Toys in the Attic

Posted on August 8, 2009

It was three years ago when school had just finished, and summer break began. I was 15 and didn’t really believe in paranormal activity like ghosts. During the year, I became friends with another fellow 15 year old named David in our high school guitar class. He always talked about ghosts when he had the chance, but I still always thought of it as fiction.

During the first week of the break, David called me because he had just got a new big screen TV, and wanted me to stay overnight and have a horror movie marathon, seeing as his parents were in Seattle for their anniversary. When I arrived, David was trying to find a solution to a problem. He couldn’t connect his because there was no room to set up a cable outlet. But then a light bulb clicked, and he thought of having it in the attic.

He had never been in there before, but always heard movement. He had lost a lot of interest in the supernatural and thought it was just rats.David had never been into his attic before, so this was kind of like an adventure. We pulled down the stairs to it, and walked up.

It was very dark, and filled with all sorts of unused stuff. The only light came from a hanging light that David turned on. It didn’t give much life, but just enough. We went to the corner that was closest to the room holding his TV only to find it filled with toys. David had moved in a few years back, so we assumed it must have been from the previous owners. There was a small red tricycle, a ragged, one-eyed doll, books and a few blocks with letters on them. Only thinking about the cable outlet, we took the stuff and dumped them in the trash outside.

When we got back inside, David pulled out his dads tool kit and we ventured back up into the attic. As we got closer to the corner, we heard the scurrying of tiny footsteps, as if it were a child running around behind us. We swung around to look, but nothing was there. Insisting it was a rat, David kept installing the outlet until it was finished, and all wires were connected.

We started making our way down the steps when we heard the tiny footsteps again. Thinking it was yet another rat, we kept going until we reached the second last step and heard a noise, which sounded nothing like footsteps. We stopped to listen again. Was what we were hearing crying? The crying continued, and we sprinted back up the stairs to find where the source of the crying was. Looking around, we found that the crying had stopped. I suggested that the crying might have been coming from one of the kids playing outside. David agreed, although I could tell that his mind had wandered back to ghosts. It had been months since he thought of them.

We left the attic and decided that we should take our minds off of it and watch TV. Our thoughts of the attic leaving us, we watched TV for a few hours. Halfway through one of our favourite shows, we heard a loud crash down the hall and the TV went black. Flipping through the channels, there was nothing but a dark screen. Immediately, thoughts of the crying child seeped into our minds, and we made our way to the bedroom down the hall.

Our first thought was to go into the attic, but the loud crashing noise came from the bedroom that resided under half of it. We decided to investigate, and start with the bedroom. We pushed open the door to see the four poster bed completely flipped over with the sheets still perfectly tucked in, and the posts crumpled into tiny rods.. We tried to lift it and found that it was way too heavy for two people to lift, let alone slam it down with enough force to damage the metal posts. The thing puzzling us was that the only way toward there was past the TV room, and we would’ve seen anyone who walked by.

Becoming a bit fearful of what was in the house, we pulled the stairs down by the long pull cord, walked up and emerged into the dusty attic to find that it had gotten much, much colder. Although afraid, we cared more about the TV then anything so we cautiously made our way to the outlet. When we got closer, we were shocked to see that the wires were cut. Not chewed off, but cut perfectly as if by wire cutters.

As I stood staring at the wires in disbelief, I could feel David tapping my shoulder violently. In a shaking voice I heard him say my name. As I turned my head, my heart skipped a beat. There was the tricycle with the doll sitting on it, and blocks stacked beside it. The same toys we threw out. As I looked in further, I noticed that the blocks stacked spelled out L-I-L-Y.

Staring in horror, our only thought was to get the hell out of there. Another loud crash from below increased our desire to leave. Something was seriously not right. As we put the stairs back up into the roof and made our way to his couches, I heard David swear so loud, I jumped. He ran towards his TV and fell to his knees. There was the doll standing in front of the TV, with the tricycle smashed right into the screen. The one thing that made this truly terrifying that the smashed TV was still in static.

Just then, the sound of running is heard behind us, and we turn in time to catch a glimpse of something small and dark, like a shadow, disappear around the corner. Having enough, we dashed to the bathroom and locked the door. Trying to figure out what’s going on, we begin to go over what just happened when a faint knocking is at the door. Our hearts stopped, while the knocking came again, and a giggling was heard. The giggling made my hair stand on end, because it wasn’t a playful giggling. It was like a laugh when your worst enemy sees you trip and fall.

As we sank back towards the wall, we heard the laughter and footsteps slowly fade away. We waited for a good hour before peering out the door. We gathered up our courage, and decided that it would be best to just leave, and the sooner we got out, the better. We tip-toed around the house until the door was in view, and then broke into a jog. We were almost there until we saw something that stopped us dead in our tracks. The wheel of the tricycle was lying right in front of the door. As we turned around, we saw the worn out blue blocks sitting there, stacked spelling out the word S-T-A-Y. Awestruck, we stood in silence as the pidder padder of tiny feet grew closer and closer.

We had never heard or experienced anything ever like this. It was probably the worst thing that has ever happened to us. As we just stood, staring, glued to the floor, David had an idea. He wanted to take the toys back to where they were originally. He had heard of people disturbing things that belonged to people that have passed away. Their spirits were angered by the disturbance. As we gathered the toys and made our way to the attic, we heard the sound of the small feet trailing us up. As we placed the toys back, the anxiety seemed to lift and we went back downstairs to find that the TV was good as new.

When David’s parents got home, we explained the whole ordeal to them. Though very skeptical, they decided to come in contact with the old owners to find out if they knew a Lily. They were surprised to find that the old owners, The Walden’s, had a daughter Lily who had died in a fire when she was 6. It happened in the attic, which was where she slept and played. Although nothing as wild has happened, the occasional sound of soft feet can be heard from the attic.

This story was told by Reid Mathews, but David Ferguson helped recollect details from the incident.

Written by David Ferguson & Reid Mathews, Copyright 2009

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