Attic

My grandmother had a big old three-story house in the backwoods of Pennsylvania. The house had a dark musty attic that was full of boxes and stacked furniture from past eras. There was a clothes rack that had two of my Grandfather’s suits draped on hangers. Those two suits hung right in front of a tiny window in the back wall of the attic. They were perfectly backlit so, when reaching the top of the attic stairs, it looked like two men were standing against the attic wall. The last time I was in that attic I was 16 years old. I was alone. I thought I was alone. It was right over my shoulder and I was paralyzed to turn my head to see what it was. It was very close to me like someone up against you in a subway car. I have never seen it but to this day it has always terrified me. Years have passed and I know it is still in that attic. The house is now owed by my Aunt and someday, I will slowly climb those steps to that attic again.