Cabinet Attic
I never thought I would find myself in this situation. It all began when I moved into my new house, a charming old Victorian with a history that whispered through its creaking floorboards. The real estate agent had warned me about the attic, mentioning that it was a bit peculiar. But, being the adventurous type, I brushed off her concerns and eagerly explored my new home.
The first few months were uneventful. The attic door, tucked away in a corner of the hallway, remained locked, and I had no intentions of prying it open. However, as time went on, a strange curiosity began to gnaw at me. What secrets lay hidden within those dusty walls? What mysteries were concealed in the shadows of that forgotten space?
One evening, as a storm raged outside, I found myself unable to resist the allure any longer. Armed with a flashlight, I made my way to the attic door. The key, which the previous owner had conveniently left behind, slid effortlessly into the lock. With a deep breath, I turned the key and pushed the door open.
The attic was a sight to behold. It was a vast space, cluttered with old furniture, dusty boxes, and forgotten memories. The air was thick with a musty smell, and the silence hung heavy. As I ventured further into the darkness, my flashlight illuminating the path before me, I noticed a peculiar cabinet tucked away in a corner.
The cabinet stood tall, its doors adorned with intricate carvings. It seemed out of place amidst the chaos of the attic. Intrigued, I approached it cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest. As I reached out to touch the cabinet, a shiver ran down my spine. It felt cold, unnaturally so.
Without thinking, I pulled open the cabinet doors, revealing a hidden compartment within. Inside, I found a collection of old photographs, yellowed with age. Each picture depicted a different family, their faces etched with sadness and despair. There was something haunting about those images, as if they held the souls of the forgotten.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the attic, extinguishing my flashlight. Panic gripped me as darkness enveloped the space. I fumbled for my phone, desperate for any source of light. As the screen illuminated the room, I froze.
The photographs had vanished.
Fear consumed me as I heard a whisper in the darkness, a voice that seemed to come from all directions. It was a chilling, otherworldly sound that spoke of anguish and longing. The voice grew louder, echoing through the attic, filling the air with a presence that I couldn't comprehend.
Terrified, I stumbled towards the attic door, desperate to escape the nightmare that had unfolded before me. But as I reached for the doorknob, a force pushed me back, preventing my escape. I was trapped, at the mercy of whatever malevolent entity lurked within this cursed space.
Days turned into weeks, and I remained imprisoned in the attic. The whispers grew louder, tormenting my mind, driving me to the brink of madness. Shadows danced along the walls, taking on sinister forms that seemed to mock my helplessness. I had become a prisoner in a realm where time held no meaning.
Now, as I sit here, scribbling these words in the dim light of my dying flashlight, I can feel the presence closing in. The cabinet attic has claimed me, body and soul. My only hope is that someone will find this account, a warning to those who dare to unlock the secrets of the forgotten. Beware the cabinet attic, for once it claims you, there is no escape.
