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Austin (DionysusBlack) | 11 comments The Noise In The Attic By Austin A.

It was in the winter of ’78 in a small little sleepy town named Holiday Oaks that Joshua Watkins started to notice the noises in the attic. Each night since October Timmy could hear the clanking of the toys in the attic. Fear kept him rooted him in bed as the clanking symbols and drums from his wind-up soldiers marched around in the attic as the wind blew through eaves. He dared not get up from his bed as the howling wind taunted him and teased him to the point of tears. Each morning his mother would find him curled up in a fetal position, hiding under his blankets terrified and asleep. And with that a specialist was called in order to diagnose Joshua symptoms and the doctor attributed the cause to possible night terrors and suggested waiting it out and if that didn’t work there was medication out there to treat the illness.
Weeks went by and Joshua seemed to be the only one to notice the clanking of the little tin soldier as it marched through that gusty attic and every time he tries to go to the attic door it is locked and the attic’s key is nowhere to be found. The tiny soldier is still up there mocking Joshua and something new is chilling Joshua’s blood to the core, laughter and Timmy looks back and forth from his mother to his father at the dinner table and wonders if they could hear the insane laughter coming from directly above them. The cackling seemed unnatural and Timmy wonder how any person could survive in such a cold attic without food or water for so long, surely this thing wasn’t human. That thought sent chills up Timmy’s spine and gave him goose bumps as he heard the insane laughter go on and on as the marching continued on upstairs in the closed up attic.
The clinking of the tin soldier seemed to get louder as the months rolled on and finally Christmas rolled around and Timmy dreaded the upcoming holiday for he knew the soldiers were being wounded up by something dark and utterly unwholesome as the season changed with the changing of the leaves. Something wickedly had came in with the flow of the northern winds and few have stories about the strange things happening in this small little town, Timmy realizes that he is just another story that will be told around the campfire, about the boy who went mad because of the thing that lurked in the attic..
For months the child suffered on in silence until one day in the midst of a blizzard, the power to the house got knocked out and the boy’s father insisted the boy check the attic for emergency supplies that he may have stored up there after he finally found the key to attic. The boy, afraid of the thing in the attic, tried his hardest to keep from going up into the attic but it was no use the father’s will was too strong and Joshua found himself in the attic, alone with only a flashlight and his fears. The beam of his flashlight projecting the corners as he wildly searched about, fear etched in his eyes as he took in the alien shapes of boxes covered with dust covered sheets and an old dress-maker’s dummy that looked turn of the century.
The sounds of mechanized feet was nowhere to be heard as Tim searched the attic for signs of his toy soldiers that he had last seen back in October when he was playing up here in the attic with one of the neighbor’s children, Simon Phillips, Joshua’s best friend. They had been playing in the attic and Simon had proposed a game of hide and go seek to see who would win ownership over the toy that both boys scraped their earnings to buy. It was petty but Joshua agreed instead of letting Simon have the toy and now as Joshua stood in the attic for the attic for the first time in months he could smell the overwhelming reminder that he knew where the tin soldier was, just like he knew where Simon’s body was….rotting in his hiding place, in an old trunk in the furthest corner of the attic underneath an avalanche of boxes and secured with a padlock so that his secret could never get out. After all he was supposed to be distraught over the disappearance of his best friend and wouldn’t he seem odd if he were to change.
Joshua remembered the old man at the carnival who sold the boys the tin soldier told them it came with a price and when he nearly refused to sell the wind-up toy to the boys Joshua had started to get angry and almost lost his cool when Simon being a year older managed to talk him into to selling the antique toy to the two boys slyly without so much as breaking a sweat. The old man gazed at Simon and with a long penetrating glare said,” Your funeral Mac.” And sold the two of them the tin soldier for their pocket change. After that they took turns holding possession of the soldier and after several weeks it had escalated to this, the wagering game that would decide who would own the tin soldier, the object that was driving both the boys fixation, fueling their ambitions as they sought out the right to own the soldier for his own selfish purposes.
It was during their little game of hide and go seek, when Simon had been foolish enough to hide in the trunk that Joshua latched the lid down with a heavy padlock and shifted a pallet of boxes to bury the trunk under a mass of extra clutter. Simon clueless as to his friend’s betrayal call for help but his fate was sealed when the oxygen in the trunk began to run out and started to fill with deadly carbon monoxide instead. His death was not in vain however since he had grabbed the tin soldier and taken it into the trunk with him without Joshua seeing and as death began to embrace him with the icy confines of its inky black womb, he began to laugh maniacally as he winded up the key in the back of the tiny tin soldier.
Joshua stood in the attic, cotton-mouthed as he walked on shaky legs to the pile of overturned boxes that he had rearrange on top of Simon’s resting place as he moved the dusty sheet off the pile of boxes and started to unstuck the boxes from on top of the trunk as he knew he had to know if Simon really was selfish enough to take the soldier into the trunk with him. If Simon was that much of a cheat to try to steal what should have been his….As he removed the last box he caught wind of the overpowering smell of death and realize with a sense of oncoming dread that no type of mental conditioning would prepare him for what lay in wait inside the trunk as he unlocked the padlock and slowly opened the lid.
Simon’s skin had shrunken and oozed green with mold as his body had shriveled up and changed to a deathly shade of purple. He had dried puke and fecal matter plastered to his skin and his eyes were shrunken white orbs that gazed dully at the world around him. Simon’s lips were stretched into a skeletal smile as they were stretched tautly across his face. His hands were bloodied from beating on the edges of the trunk and his fingernails were bloody stubs from scratchy long grooves into the walls of the trunk’s lining. Clutched firmly in his hands was the tin soldier and even in death his grip hadn’t faltered as Joshua tried to pry the antique from Simon’s cold dead hands. Joshua jerked hard but noticed that Simon’s death-grip had fastened tightly on the tiny soldier and the more he tried to pull the harder it seemed to pull back. Joshua pulled harder on the soldier as it came loose from Simon’s grip with a sickly plop and as Joshua was going to close the lid that was when he heard the old man’s laughter as a swarm of hornets crawled out of a hornet’s nest that had been in the trunk when Simon crawled in. As everything faded to black around Joshua as death slowly closed in, Joshua saw the old man walk up the stairs, pick up the tin soldier, and right before he left turned to him and say before disappearing, “ I tried to warn you...I told you that this would be your funeral. But you wanted to pay that price and now you have…” And with that the world faded to black as the old man walked back into the shadows.

message 2: by Ravanna Dee (new)

Ravanna Dee (ravannadee) OH...MY...GOODNESS!!!
That was amazing! I loved the imagination, and suspense, you put into it. At first I just thought that the child was indeed having night terrors...But wow! Can't wait to read more of your work.

message 3: by Austin (last edited Aug 25, 2015 07:31AM) (new)

Austin (DionysusBlack) | 11 comments Why thank you Ravanna, always nice to have a fan of my work. I appreciate the feedback and will keep that in that mind. Perhaps horror isn't an option that I should give up all together.

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