Try Not To Be Afraid Of The Dark (Very Short Stories) ~EDITING~

He's Back To Kill You

"Whatever you do, don't go into the attic. Please, that's all I want you to do. Don't you dare do it."

These words echoed in my mind; every time I closed my eyes I heard them, every time I blocked out all the noise around me, they were still there.

You see, my Grandma had recently died, and before she passed away, she only said that phrase. I didn't have a chance to ask her what it meant, though.

Me and Grandma had always been close. When Father and Mother died when I was just 6 years old, she was the only person I could turn to. With no other living family members, she was the only thing I had at the time. And now, she had left me too.

The only thing I could do really, was to stay away from the attic, no matter how tempting it seemed.

"Go on, you know you want to," Robbie, my fiance, urges me on. Even though he was ten years older, he wasn't as wise as you'd think he would be.

"No, that was her only wish she had, and I'm going to keep it, okay?" I reply, angrily.

"Fine." He grumbles.

I then walk out of the room, sighing. He really can be annoying.

"Mummy, mummy!" I hear my little daughter, Elise, say. "Someone mean told me there's a dead man upstairs!"

"What?!" I reply, looking shocked. What on earth is she on about?

"I-I was just playing outside, and overheard the big boys laughing about some crazy, old man that lives in our attic! Is it true Mummy?" She stammers, looking petrified at the thought.

"No, off course not! Don't be silly, darling!"

"What about the old woman, too?" She asks.

"Nobody lives in our attic, okay?" I say, soothingly. I was definitely going to have a word with the stupid Taylor boys. Better do it now too, before they start making up some more crazy stuff and scaring my little girl.

"Um, okay.." Elise says, before skipping off to find Robbie. Wow, that girl could go from being sad to happy in about a second.

Deciding to go have a go at the boys Elise overheard, I pull on my navy blue jacket and fasten up my leather boots.

When I reach their front door, I knock confidently on it once.

No answer.

I knock on it again, only this time I try to make the noise a lot louder.

"Hello?" I hear a voice say, as the door abruptly swings open and out peers Ryan, one of the two teenage boys that lived with their parents in number 12.

"Hi there. Could I spare just a minute of your time?" I ask politely, wanting him to think I was friendly and also a bit posh.

"Um," He starts, "I am doing something at the moment, but sure, I suppose a minute won't do any harm."

Oh boy, if he knew how much I was going to tell him off right now, he would of well slammed the door in my face.

"Okay," I smile, trying to forget about the fact I was so angry, "My daughter came in before, all upset, saying something about you both talking about dead people in my attic. What is all that about?"

"Um," Ryan says, "Hang on. Let me just get my brother to explain," He then closes the door, leaving it on its latch, and walking away. He's only gone for a minute at the most, before I see another face appear in the door.

"Yes?" He asks, looking at me.

"Care to explain why you were talking about dead people in my attic?" I hiss, my voice sounding angrier as I realise my patience really is wearing thin.