The Shadow in the Attic Short Story
In the quiet village of Marlowe, nestled between thick woods, stood the old Wilkins house. It had been empty for years, the windows boarded up and the door locked tight.
The villagers often whispered about the house, claiming it was haunted. They said a terrible darkness lived in the attic, a shadow that no one dared approach.
One rainy afternoon, Lucy, a young woman seeking adventure, arrived in Marlowe. The eerie stories of the Wilkins house intrigued her, and with a sense of both fear and curiosity, she decided to explore.
The house creaked under the weight of time as she pushed open the front door. The air was musty, and dust floated in the air like forgotten memories.
The walls were lined with peeling wallpaper, and furniture covered in sheets stood like ghosts of the past.
Lucy felt a chill run down her spine as she made her way through the house, the silence broken only by the sound of her footsteps.
As she climbed the narrow staircase to the attic, the air grew colder. She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity pushed her forward.
The door to the attic was old, its wood swollen with age. Lucy pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. The attic was dark, save for a small, cracked window letting in a faint sliver of light.
In the corner of the room, something moved. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. A shadow, tall and thin, flickered across the floor, stretching unnaturally along the walls. It seemed to pulse, as though it were alive.
“Who’s there?” Lucy called, her voice trembling.
The shadow didn’t respond, but it shifted toward her, moving with a strange, slow grace. Lucy stepped back, her pulse quickening. The room felt colder still, the air thick with an oppressive weight.
Then, from the darkness, a voice whispered, faint and chilling, “You should not have come…”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. She looked around, but no one was visible. The shadow continued to stretch, its shape growing darker, more defined.
It was no longer just a shadow—it was a figure. Tall, hunched, with hollow eyes that glowed faintly in the dark.
The figure stepped closer, and the air seemed to grow heavier with each step it took. Lucy’s heart raced. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“I was once the keeper of this house,” the figure replied in a voice that echoed like wind through broken windows. “But I was betrayed… trapped here… forgotten.”
Lucy’s mind raced. What had happened here? Who was this thing, and why was it in the attic? The shadow raised a hand, pointing at her with long, bony fingers.
“Leave… now… or you will stay with me forever…”
Before Lucy could react, the shadow lunged, its form becoming a swirling mass of darkness. She stumbled backward, but her foot caught on something, and she fell to the floor.
The shadow loomed over her, its cold breath brushing her face as it hissed in fury.
In that moment, something inside Lucy snapped. The stories of the village came rushing back—how the Wilkins house had been abandoned after a terrible tragedy.
The family who lived there had vanished one night, and no one had ever figured out why. The house was left to rot, and the village moved on.
But the shadow never did.
Lucy grabbed the old wooden beam that lay beside her, using it to push herself to her feet.
She swung it at the shadow, and for a moment, it recoiled, as if the light from the beam hurt it. She swung again, harder this time, and the shadow let out a deafening screech. The room seemed to tremble.
With one final, powerful strike, the shadow dissipated into the air, vanishing like smoke in the wind. The attic grew still and silent once more, but the cold remained.
Lucy, trembling and covered in sweat, ran down the stairs, out of the house, and into the pouring rain.
As she looked back at the Wilkins house, she saw the windows once again boarded up, the door sealed tight. But she knew the truth now.
The shadow was gone, but its curse remained. The house would always be a place of darkness, waiting for the next soul brave enough to enter.
And in the distance, Lucy thought she heard a faint whisper, lingering in the wind: “I’ll be waiting…”
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