Beetlejuice Attic Novels & Stories

Still, it was worth the heat for a little adventure. There was a pull-string directly above me and when I yanked it, a bare bulb lent dirty light to the attic space. There wasn’t much to see anyway. The pitch of the roof left little walkable space. The floor itself was just a few scattered sheets of plywood. It smelled dry and somehow gamey and I wondered if there were squirrels or raccoons finding their way in. There were a couple of old chairs, a dresser with the drawers missing, and a bunch of cardboard boxes splitting at the seams. I squinted at the boxes. Are those comic books? I shuffled over, careful to keep my head low.

I brushed away the dust with my hand and walked in. The attic was about twenty square meters, with a small pointed roof window that let in bright sunlight. The attic was minimally furnished, with just a bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe, a desk, a chair, and a door at the end of the room, which the girl informed me was the bathroom. Frankly, this room was much more comfortable than the prison in the Crescent Moon tribe. "Miss, someone will come to clean this room later. If you don’t need any help, I'll excuse myself." the timid girl said.

Shaking my head, I try to swallow the lump in my throat and turn to jog after Reigh who's already at the next stair case. We walk silence and soon enough we reach the third floor but Reigh doesn't stop there and turns to the next staircase. Furrowing my brows in confusion, I follow behind. We stop when the stairs end at a door in the roof. Reigh opens it and climbs inside. When I peek my head up, I realize where we are. The attic. *Hmm, you could adjust here," Reigh says. "I'll tell someone to put a mattress here." I stare at her, fighting the urge to bash her head against the wall. Cool it Elizabeth, this woman is incharge here. Just breathe.

The room was almost dark except for the small rays of sunlight that streamed in through the tiny window above. My hands found the light switch by the door and I switched it on and immediately bright lights filled the space. The room was pristine as though it was still in use, and it probably was. I walked further into it, it was quite big for an attic. Boxes were stacked on top of one another and in the corner of the room was a baby crib, my heart clenched - it must have belonged to the baby that had died too.

she continues “ She sees me as a gold digger and we're always at logger heads ” Bessie added following Jolie “ I see ” Jolie replied shortly “ The house is a bit cold , I'll lighten the fireplace and show you the secret ” Jolie replies as she led the way with the dimly lit lantern to the fire place , picking a match box , she lit fire on the woods . “ Do you live here alone ? ” Bessie inquired staring at the large attic room which was getting warm

He held an old, tarnished brass key. He looked at them, his gaze moving from the ruin of the warehouse to the silver thread on Elena’s wrist, to the gold fleck in Lucas’s eye. His burned lips twisted into something that wasn’t a smile. “The Warehouse was just the basement,” Julian rasped, his voice ruined by smoke and pain. “You cleaned out the cellar. But the real poison… the original recipe… is in the attic.” He held up the old key. It gleamed dully in the chaos.

Remembered the way my skin had burned for hours after. I set the mug down harder than I meant. “Fine. One night.” His smile was small, sharp. “Attic’s still got the trundle.” The attic. Our old hideout. Sloping ceilings, skylight smeared with water colors, the smell of dust and teenage secrets. I turned to go. His voice stopped me. “Evie.” I looked back. “Welcome home.” The words followed me up the stairs like smoke. The attic door stuck. I had to shoulder it open, the wood groaning in protest. Dust motes danced in the shaft of light from the hallway. I flicked the switch.

She forced herself to stay calm, keeping her face serene—an expression she had practiced in the mirror—as she knocked twice on the last door. “Come in,” Elodie called, her voice thick with sleep. Always a sleeper, Suzy thought. She opened the door and slipped inside. The attic room was larger than hers, sunlight striping through the half-open shutters. Elodie sat cross-legged on the lower bunk, her hair a dark spill over one shoulder, wearing an oversized nightshirt that slipped off one collarbone. “Morning, sleepy,” Suzy said, setting the basket down. “Thought you’d be up raiding the pantry by now.”

Only the lamp guided us, casting golden glows across the exposed brick walls. “Where are we going?” I asked, letting his steps lead mine. “A secret battleground.” “I thought I already held all your secrets.” He turned halfway, a brief flash of ice in his eyes. “There are still rooms whose keys you haven’t stolen—yet.” At the end of the hallway, he pressed a wooden panel. A soft click echoed, and the wall slid open, revealing a narrow staircase leading to a glass attic. The air above was colder; the transparent roof revealed the vast night sky, streaked with the city’s distant shimmer.

A faint creak echoed as a hidden set of stairs descended, and he gestured for me to follow. I hesitated for only a moment, but my curiosity won out, and I climbed after him into the narrow space. The attic was charming, with exposed beams and a dusting of age that gave it an almost magical feel, the kind of place you expect to find in a centuries-old house. But this wasn’t an old-century house. And Kaiser didn’t stop there. Instead, he led me to a window that had a view of the rooftops.