Brad Steiger - The Awful Thing in the Attic

Its coming from the attic, the woman told me, trying her best not to allow fear to warp her voice. All the terrible disturbances are coming from there. Theres something awful in the attic.

The house was suffering from an extensive range of haunting phenomena. Doors opened and closed of their own volition. Ghostly sighs and murmurs were heard through the home.

Soon after the family had moved into the house, the dog they had had for seven years ran away and never returned.

The television set and certain other electrical appliances were completely nonfunctional during the hours when the eerie phenomena were most intense.

When I visited the home on a rainy October afternoon, I felt that I had been summoned to the lair of the Demon King. The place was huge; a massive sprawling Victorian mansion that I had been told had been sitting empty for many years. If ever a house looked haunted it certainly was this old manse in northern Illinois. With its tall windows suggesting eyes, its mammoth door, an open mouth, the old house looked as though it were screaming.

According to the letter that I had received requesting my assistance in helping the beleaguered family to understand their paranormal problem, the woman had read a number of my books and felt that I might have some arcane formula that would put to rest the eerie phenomena that had so afflicted them. I surely had made no such claims; and I had tried politely, but firmly, to suggest they try elsewhere for a Ghostbuster.

But the husbands pleas over the telephone had touched my heart. Brad, please, Im down on my luck. I lost my executive position in Chicago during the companys budget sweep two years ago. We took a terrible beating when we were forced to sell our home to pay major bills. We considered it a godsend when I was able to get a job here in this much smaller city and we were able to get this house at an extremely reasonable price. Now Im beginning to see why we got such a bargain.

He (well call him George) went on to say that although he had always considered himself a good Lutheran who didnt believe in such things as ghosts and earthbound spirits, something that he could neither explain nor understand had made their life miserable almost immediately after they had moved into the old house.

Anna and I have three kids, and theyre scared to death of the weird things that happen. Im afraid that Anna is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The whole family keeps insisting that we move out of here immediately. But, man, I cannot afford to move. Im flat on my back financially. I need time to rebuild. Please come see what you can do to help us.

His words had moved me, but as I pulled into the driveway in front of the troubled Victorian mansion, I asked myself if I was truly the proper deliverer from whatever troublesome and restless spirits dwelt within the shadowed hallways and darkened rooms.

And now after I had heard each members recitations of bizarre personal encounters with the spooks, Anna was telling me with firm resoluteness that the center of the haunting lay in the attic.

Terrible sounds of weeping come from there late at night, she said.

Had anyone ever investigated?

No way! George exclaimed, nearly spilling his cup of coffee over his lap. There is no way in h, ah, heaven that I would go up there when those crying noises begin.

Each of the three children echoed their fathers sentiments with a me neither of their own.

Carol, fourteen, the oldest, had refused to stay alone in her room ever since the night something shook her bed and pulled her hair.

Mike, ten, swore that once when he was watching television, the set turned itself off, then back on, and an ugly monster face glared out at him from the screen.

Lewis, seven, spoke with unwavering conviction of the ghost kitty that kept appearing and disappearing and scattering his toys.

George had mainly been upset by the voices he had heard throughout the house. Apparently the haunting phenomenon was an excellent mimic, and he had been led on numerous wild goose chases when he was certain that he had heard members of the family calling him to the basement or to other rooms in the house. He had also heard the sounds of footsteps running throughout the entire home.

Anna had often found her clothes closet in total disarray. Numerous personal items had completely disappeared.

And, of course, everyone had heard the sound of weeping issuing from the attic.

Its so damned eerie, George shuddered involuntarily. Just when its finally quiet late at night, that damned crying starts in the attic.

Did it sound like a man or a woman crying?

George: A woman.

Mike: A little kid, maybe a girl, like seven or eight.

Lewis: An old man, I think.

Carol: I cant always tell. A man, though, I think.

Anna: A man. Without question. A man who is very sad and disappointed about something awful that happened to him. Something he cannot bear to even think about. So he cries.

Do you think maybe that someone got murdered in this house? Carol asked.

Ill bet they did! Mike was certain. You just know someone got murdered here.

And the ghost could be out for revenge, Carol said, unable to suppress a shiver.

And itll take it out on us! Mike shouted. Its gonna kill us, Dad! Weve got to move nowright nowtonight!

Lewis started to cry in fear. He ran to his mother and buried his head in her lap. Dont let the ghost kill us, Mommy!

After a few moments of shouts, tears, and screams, George managed to restore order in his home.

This is what its been like, Brad, he said, his eyes pleading with me. Please do something.

I asked to be left alone for a while. I needed time to center myself and to focus on what was taking place in the old house and what was so disturbing this family.

I had sat quietly for perhaps eight to ten minutes. I had been sitting with my eyes closed, but I opened them at the sound of the rustle of layers of clothing moving nearby. I could see nothing, but I felt a cool breeze against my face.

And then there were the whispers. Mens voices. Womens voices. At least two different children. Barely audible, jumbled phrases, perhaps a distinct word here and there, but generally blurred, slurred.

I heard the crying a few minutes later. It sounded as though it came from a source very far away, yet I knew that it issued from the attic.

Another sound nearer to me caused me to glance over my left shoulder. The entire family was wedged into a doorway, their eyes wide with fear, watching me to see what I was going to do.

One of my very favorite motion pictures with a paranormal theme is The Uninvited with Ray Milland, Ruth Hussey, and Gail Russell. I never fail to get a chill when the eerie specter of the woman begins to weep on the spiral staircase at night. I got a similar chill along my backbone at that moment, hearing those sobs of anguish coming from the attic. Only this wasnt a movie. This was real. And I was there.