Beetlejuice Attic นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Bearing down on his elbow, he pulled himself further until he could hinge at the waist and lay his entire upper torso on the dusty floor and crawl along until his legs were also through the opening. He lay there for a moment, letting his breath fall back into its normal rhythm, then raised his head to scan his surroundings. The attic was large but the ceiling was low, maybe five feet from floor to rafters, not even enough space for Patrick to stand upright. Except for a few boxes, a stack of old yellowing newspapers tied with twine, and what at first he took for some rusty fencing that he eventually recognized as a dissembled dog kennel. He could see all this because of the sunlight filterin

Before Wendy was moved in, the room was hastily cleaned, leaving only a small bed, a round table, a single chair, and a simple portable wardrobe. Compared to the warmth and beauty of her old room, the attic was like a slum. There was no heating, and it was the coldest part of the entire mansion. In Johnsonville, winter temperatures often dropped below freezing. The moment Wendy stepped into the attic, her frail body started trembling from the cold, and she wanted to leave immediately. But the maids, who had been bullied by her for years, had no sympathy. One of them pushed her roughly to the floor and locked the door before leaving.

He stepped further in, and Isabella and Rose followed him slowly. But suddenly, the faint scratching sound was heard again, this time clearer. Rose immediately took a deep breath, feeling increasingly tense. "The sound... is coming from here," Isabella said, her eyes focused on a dark corner of the attic that looked deserted. She felt that something—or someone—was hiding there. With the courage she had left, Isabella stepped closer, and Ben shined the flashlight into the corner. As the light illuminated the room, they saw something shocking. There was a small door on the attic floor, a door that seemed to be an access to a secret space beneath the floor.

His eyes alone fill me with warmth, and I return his smile as we get to the attic. The place looks . . . magical. There are tall shelves on the walls, filled with all sorts of books and jarred plants and even animals swimming in strange potions. There are glass jars and vials in the middle of the room, some of them bubbling over heat and some of them just stacked and stored. What catches my eye is the basin that sits in the middle of the table, which is full of swirling white smoke. Gammie motions us to sit in the little cushions on the floor as we huddle in the corner.

Again, he wasn’t responsible for his wife and daughter’s crimes, but he gave me a bad feeling. “I was on my way out,” Aaron said. “See you later.” Aaron smiled and went out the front door. “Shall we start your tour upstairs?” Alfred asked. “Sure,” Amy agreed and pulled out a mini tablet. Alfred started up the stairs. With his tall, thin form, he had no trouble walking up the many stairs. But I groaned when he went up the second set of stairs to the third floor. “The attic access is through a closet in the last bedroom in the south hallway,” Alfred told us. “There are sixteen bedrooms and four bathrooms on this floor. It was used to house the servants during Miss Martha’s tenure.”

We eithr get out or die trying. “Plan B is: I’ll be back here in three days with the key.” She nods again. I pull her into a quick, fierce hug before turning back toward the attic, the darkness pressing in like a suffocating blanket as I crawl through in search of the cubbyhole. Almost immediately, I slam my head into a low beam, then bark my elbow against another. “Ow—seriously?” I mutter, gritting my teeth. My hands fumble against splintered wood and dust-thick corners. Every movement sends cobwebs clinging to my skin and spiders scuttling up my arms. My breath hitches. I crouch lower, trying to ignore the skittering legs on my neck, the grit under my knees, the way the air starts to shift

‘Whoever build this place must have not trusted whomever they build it for,’ Jessica thought as she felt another plank. Jessica carefully moved the planks aside and pulled herself up into the ceiling. Once in the attic, she positioned the planks carefully back. Jessica looked around in the dark but didn’t have to use her wolf sight because the attic had two windows, one that was open that caused the draft. The half-cut moon gave enough light to the attic. ‘Is the vampire around?’ She wondered if he was out feeding somewhere since she did hear him leave before she fell asleep. ‘What if I didn’t hear him come back?’

He ordered and his men grabbed her hands and started to drag her up the stairs, towards the attic. "She is a lovely kitten." One of them snickered. "Oh yeah. It would be a shame if that body goes to waste." The other agreed, chuckling darkly. Jennifer shuddered, fear suddenly gripping her heart. They pushed her into a dark and damp attic where cobwebs and dust made her nose itch. However, their conversation had got her worried much more than anything else. "What do you mean?" She asked, looking at them with wide eyes. "Oh, we won't do anything to you yet. We will wait till the boss allows us to get rid of you." One of them flashed a lopsided grin before slamming the door shut, leaving Jennif

“Come on!” Damian said as he grabbed my hand and basically pulled me along with him. I barely felt my ribs as we flew up the stairs to the attic. “This way!” I yelled when we got to the landing. The attic was massive, as it was all unfinished and exposed. The only thing that made it inviting was the mini fridge that mom put in the corner of the room so she didn’t have to walk all the way downstairs to get water. The balcony door was shut. The lock wasn’t turned and there was a coolness to the air that made me feel like it had been opened. “I don’t see anything out of place.” Damian muttered as he examined the door.

We live in a large 2-1/2-story house in a very nice part of town. We have a large attic with 6 big windows to light up the entire area which would make my task a bit easier. We have all of our ‘treasures’ at one end of the room, next to the furniture that had been left there by the previous owners. Some of the furniture pieces were antiques that I may restore someday, but for now they just sit in the corner covered in old sheets. I made several trips to the attic bringing the things that I thought I would need. A boom box, a handful of CD’s, a thermos of coffee and lots of boxes! There would be a lot of them to haul to the curb. It’s a good thing that Jeff has a strong back and is willing to