Creepy Attic Novels & Stories

Moh’s POV The attic was not like the rest of the manor. While the lower floors were a testament to Julian’s public-facing power, all marble, mahogany, and vast, open spaces, the attic was cramped, sweltering, and smelled of dust, old cedar, and the sharp tang of linseed oil. It was a graveyard for the things the Thorne family had outgrown, a labyrinth of draped furniture and stacked crates. But it was neat! As much as it could be.

The rooms up here are just as damaged and vandalized as downstairs, with cracks in the drywall and water damage from rain and snow. There’s a spiral staircase in a closet, which seems a little strange to me at first. There are no lights up here, so Lucas and I both get out our phones for light. Lucas doesn’t need it, of course, but the extra light helps me see. The attic is large, with tall ceilings and solid wood flooring. The energy shifts again, and I’m picking up something more personal…like a specific energy belonging to one person. “What’s through here?” I ask, pointing to a little door in the wall.

I sighed inwardly I kind of expected that question but I already had prepared an answer: “he is just a friend granny, we have been best friends for years now, there is nothing like that between us” As I finished, Kevin came in and entered the room, but grandma suddenly stood up and said: “that is it for me kidos, I am off to bed. There is an extra mattress if you need it in the attic and the covers are in the closet” and then she headed upstairs and we heard the closing of her door. I shivered as I heard the word attic. I hate that place. It scared the hell out of me when I was a kid and it still did. I wouldn’t go up there no matter what. I looked at Kevin and asked: “You can settle on the

“So.” “So.” “We’re really doing this?” “I think we are.” He smiled. “I’d like my brother back.” “You never lost him.” “I’ve got you too.” A few minutes later we left the bedrooms and walked toward the attic. The old stairs creaked beneath our feet. Cole looked around. “This place used to scare me.” “You thought there were ghosts.” “There probably were.” “You still haven’t changed.” “I try not to.” The attic was filled with old furniture and forgotten boxes. Dust floated through the air. Cole pointed toward a wooden toy chest. “I remember that.”

Gemma reached the main lighting system that Professor Digby set up to take stock of the antiques stored there in the attic. Powerful lighting came on one by one, and Gemma could hear the faint eerie screams of the Fear Mongers as they withdrew into the ever-shrinking shadows within the far corners of the attic. Larin and Hugo went in for the kill quickly. Their flashlights ate up what little shadows the Fear Mongers found. Their swords sliced through their odd skin and bodies. Transparent grey ooze dripped and puddled on the old floorboards. It felt like forever for Gemma. She turned away from the scene of alien gore and death.

Greta carefully spoke in a gentle voice, and she gave Hailey plenty of time to think of her answer. “Before they brought the bones back. Before Eddie started working here on his project weeks before that and we started having issues when we moved his things into the attic workshop. In fact, it started after we moved into the attic. But we’ve now experienced things in almost every room but the main shop. It’s like whatever or whoever the spirit is, is afraid of the spirits of the dolls. Or possibly hate them and avoid them because there are too many. Maybe.” Hailey tried to give Greta facts, but her feelings kept getting in the way and she gave Greta her impressions of the event. “That’s inte

I turned the light back on. The scream that tore from my lungs wasn't human. The attic was packed. Hundreds of them. Not just my collection, but things that had crawled out from the eaves, from the crawlspaces, all wearing the faces of dolls I had never seen. They were all staring at the light, their pupils shrinking in unison, a sea of black dots vanishing into porcelain voids. They didn't retreat this time. They flinched, but they kept coming. "Don't look," a voice whispered from directly behind my ear. It sounded like Lady Genevieve. "It hurts to look."

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.

She tried to shake off the feeling, but it persisted. Emma made her way to the attic, a place that she and her parents never ventured to when they lived in the house. The staircase creaked beneath her feet as she climbed the steps, and she couldn't help but feel like the old mansion was trying to warn her about something. When she reached the top of the stairs, she pushed open the door and stepped into the dusty attic.

Maybe by the time Helen got here, I would have bled to death. Oh, what am I thinking? Better to try than not at all. I tried to find a knife, stick or whatever that could be used as a weapon. But nothing. Damn! Instantly remembered the attic upstairs. I left the room and crept up the stairs. Try your best not to make a sound. Climb up the wooden stairs slowly, hoping that there will be no squeaking sound. Considering this house is quite old. The smell of dust rose when I opened the attic door.