The Attic Door Opened Every Night—The Note I Found Made My Blood Run Cold

I discovered a note saying, “Come to the Attic at Midnight,” when someone opened my attic door every day. Merely, “My Heart Sank”

Following the death of her grandparents, Celia did everything in her power to preserve their history while also adding her own personal touches to the house. But following her massive move, strange things start to happen a few weeks later, like a mystery note instructing her to meet a stranger in her own attic at midnight. Is Celia going to leave?

Getting my grandparents’ house was like a dream come true. During innumerable summers past, I had spent time playing in the yard, helping Grandma bake in the kitchen, and listening to Grandpa tell stories by the fireside.

The house had a lot of memories and felt quite familiar, so even though I moved in alone, I felt safe.

But now, that comfort had changed completely into something unsettling.

“What’s it like, Celia?” My mom questioned me as we unpacked everything I owned. “Is it different without them?”

I said, “Of course, Mom,” putting the pots and pans back in their cabinets. “It feels familiar and strange at the same time.”

“As long as there’s a sense of comfort, that’s all you need to get going in your new place,” she said.

And everything was good. I eased into my new home and gradually changed it, adding yellow accent pieces everywhere.

It was only a few weeks ago that things began to appear very weird. The attic door would be slightly ajar when I woke up every morning for a few weeks. At first, I tried to ignore it, supposing it was just the house getting used to me or a draft, but the idea of someone breaking into my house couldn’t leave me alone.

Since I lived alone, I was, in fact, scared of intruders.

One day, while making a salad and cooking some chicken for supper, I told myself, “Stop, Celia.” “There’s nothing scary happening here.”

One evening after a long shift, I went home and poured myself a bottle of wine, eager to unwind with a nice bubble bath. But something caught my attention.

Adhered to the kitchen door frame was a small piece of paper.

“That wasn’t here before,” I said, feeling a chill run down my spine.

The succinct message was enough to give me a serious shock:

Come to the attic at midnight. Come by yourself.

A wave of fear passed over me. I didn’t know what to do. Was calling the police a wise move? What else could I say? that someone who had broken into my residence had left a note? It would be difficult to accept that given the lack of any indication of a break-in.

Thoughts raced through my mind, not a single one comforting. I told myself it had to be a joke, maybe some kids messing about, but the pit of fear in my stomach kept me from falling asleep.

I pulled out my phone and said to myself, “Celia, you just need to talk to someone about it.”

In an attempt to find solace, I called my closest friend Laura.

I spoke in a calm voice, “You won’t believe what I just found.”

“What is it? Are you okay?” putting a question to Laura.

“A statement. It was attached to the attic door, Laura. I should go up there at midnight, it says. independently.”

“Celia, that sounds really unnerving! Are you sure everything is okay? To find out more and conduct an investigation, Laura advised contacting the police.

I could hear the nervousness in her voice. Given her tension, she would likely be pacing and gnawing her nails.

I said, “I thought about that for a while.” “But what if it’s just some stupid prank?”

“The note tells you to go to a room in your house alone yourself, Celia—prank or not. What’s that, really? How can you determine if you’re safe right now?

I said nothing for a long time.

“This doesn’t feel right, Celia,” she remarked. “Do you want me to come over?”

To be honest, it felt good to think about her, so I gave it some thought. But I also knew that my best friend was a drama queen and that she was extremely paranoid. If she ever visited, she would lose her mind at the sound of anything.

“Thank you,” I answered. However, the message instructs you to come alone. Besides, I have to deal with this, whatever it is. I can’t live without my phone, though.”

“Okay, but promise me you’ll use caution. And call me when it’s finished. As soon as I hear from you, I’ll be over.”

“I assure you, I will,” I smiled in response to her kindness. “Thanks, Laura.”

The hours ticked by slowly, and every minute that went by made me feel more uneasy. I couldn’t even stand still or eat. There was nothing to focus on.

What waited for me in the attic? I almost called my mom, but decided against it because of the note’s insistence on confidentiality. What if it was the reason why no one showed up?

Or might it be that that enraged them?

Finally, midnight arrived.

I grabbed a flashlight with unsteady hands and started up the rickety stairs. Like it was every night, the attic door was slightly ajar. After a moment of hesitation and a deep breath, I opened it.

That’s exactly how I remembered the attic. It was crammed with dusty, abandoned boxes and worn-out furniture. However, tonight was different.

In the far corner, I could just make out the shape of someone sitting on an old wooden chair in the dim light of my flashlight. I froze, heart racing and terror firmly anchoring me.

“Who’s there?” I let out a scream, my voice shaking.

But nobody answered. The individual did not move at all. I mustered all my courage and moved in her direction. With every step, my eyes adjusted to the darkness until finally the reality came through. It was not a genuine person; rather, it was a dummy with cheap clothes and a wig on its head. A sense of relief swept over me, but it was short lived.

There was a tremendous noise behind me, and I startled.

I spun around, my flashlight shaky in the dark, and there stood my neighbor, Mr. Evans. His face was a mix of anger and bewilderment.

He asked, “What are you doing here?” in a sharp tone.

“What am I doing here?” I answered back, feeling fear quickly turn to anger. “What are you doing in my house?”

He paused, scanning his surroundings as though seeking an explanation.

“I thought I heard a noise and came to check on you,” he finally said, but his tone revealed that this was blatantly false.

“Liar,” I cried out, my voice shaking with wrath. Have you been secretly breaking into my home? Are these messages intended to scare me?

Without making any facial gestures, he gave me a long, hard gaze. Then, with a groan, he gave in.

“Okay, Celia. He stated, “I’ve been attempting to frighten you.”

“Why? What’s wrong with you? I haven’t caused you any harm.”

Mr. Evans’s eyes darkened as he replied.

This house has been vacant for many years. Since you were new to the region and were known to become scared quickly, I believed you would move out. In addition to growing my garden, I wanted to obtain a decent price on the property. might even put the place up for rent.”

“You thought you could scare me out of my home?” Unbelievable things were being told to me. You thought that after breaking in stealthily and leaving menacing letters, I would just pack up and leave? This is my grandparents’ house, for heavens’ sake. I’ve known you my entire life.”

He smiled, a peculiar sort of delight.

It wouldn’t take much to convince you that the place was spooky or hazardous. I heard the conversation on your phone.”

I was angry all over.

“Go. presently. If you ever set foot on my property again, I’ll contact the police.”

But as the old man looked at me, he understood he was caught. Trunting under his breath, he pivoted and clomped down the stairs.

As soon as he was gone, I sat down on an old trunk and tried to relax myself.

The next morning, I called the police. They showed understanding, promised me they would talk to Mr. Evans, and treated my statement seriously. Still, I was not going to take any chances.

I called a locksmith to come over and change all the locks. I installed cameras across the entire property and set up a security system.

“I’d like to see you try now,” I said to myself.

A few days later, I was sitting on the porch enjoying my morning coffee. I met Mr. Evans’s gaze without flinching when he turned to tend to his garden. I was no longer afraid.

In the scenario, how would you have handled things?