The Attic

I meant to upload a story on Christmas but I completely forgot about it. I guess next Christmas? Or I'll just publish it whenever.

Anyway, I hate this story but it's been in my drafts for awhile so I'm clearing it out. Criticism is appreciated.

Chapter 1

title

The sounds keep me up at night. The scratching, the footsteps above me, the doors banging. I keep my eyes closed and wish it away, a thick blanket pulled over my head. The heat is nearly suffocating, but doesn't everyone feel a sense of security with a blanket?
This has been going on for a while, but there's nothing to be done. I can't afford to leave, I'm estranged from my family, and who would believe my stories?
I dread returning from work, alone with the house. I fall asleep on the couch as soon I get home, only to move to my bedroom later to sit through the night. I've noticed the sounds have been louder, the scratching more frantic, more footsteps added to the mix. I feel as though they're getting closer.
I force my eyes closed and pull the blanket closer, the doors in the hallway slam themselves a few more times before my door creaks itself open. I hold my breath as I slowly let the blanket fall out of my hands. Moonlight gleams in from the window, illuminating the door frame. I don't know why, I don't know why I would leave my room, why the silence gave me a false security, but here I am, edging down the hallway with jagged breaths. I slip into the living room and flip on the light, cringing at the sudden light. After my eyes focus, I see there's a ladder pulled down leading to the attic. I live in a one story house.

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