The Attic Isn't Empty

Melissa studied the plaster above her head. It creaked.

She nudged her husband, Trent. “There it is again.”

“There’s nothing up there. It’s just the house.”

A thump and more wood groaning disagreed with his statement. She said, “That’s a lot of noise for nothing.”

He groaned, sat up, stretched and yawned. A thud near his head made his arms drop against his chest in surprise.

“That’s new,” he said.

“See? I told you. It’s a lot of noise.”

“There’s no way it’s in the attic, unless it’s a cat or something. There’s not enough room for anything bigger.” He hurried to the kitchen.

Melissa stared at the ceiling, listening to the popping and thuds. It stopped. Then the creaking started moving fast towards the front of the house.

A few moments later, Trent’s feet slapped hard against the floor. The noise returned with him but frenzied. So much noise above her.

“We need to go.”

“What did you see?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Teeth. Eyes. But it’s big. We’re leaving.”

She jumped out of bed when she recognized part of the sound. It was digging at the plaster.

Trent grabbed her hand, dragging her to the bedroom door. Just as they reached it, the ceiling exploded plaster and insulation onto their bed. Something humanoid fell onto it, collapsing the corner.

When it jumped up hissing, she understood her husband’s sentiment. Too many sharp teeth.

They screamed. He slammed the door shut behind them. It banged on the wood, squealing and hissing. The door cracked under the assault.

"I have a plan!" Trent grabbed the car keys as they fled the house. When they leaped in the truck, he said, “We’ll call the police from somewhere far away.”

“Very far away,” she agreed.