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“I’ll let him know,” Makayla said as Donja slid off the bed and joined her side.
They shared a look as Stan took his leave.
“Mom and Carson must have taken Frankie and Maestro for a stroll on the river before dinner,” Donja said.
“A hidden attic. How bizarre,” Makayla whispered.
“Yeah, straight out of a horror movie.”
“I wonder what they were hiding up there?”
Donja shivered.
“Wanta check it out?” Makayla asked.
“Hmmm, I guess,” Donja answered, reluctance dancing in her eyes, “but shouldn’t we wait for your dad, just in case it’s—”
“Haunted,” Makayla interrupted, exaggerating her eyes.
“Yeah, there might be ghosts up there,” Donja blurted.
“Seriously. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”
“Maybe, you said yourself; this place is haunted!”
“Scaredy-cat.” Makayla teased.
Donja twisted her face. “Maybe I am, but this kind of Freddy Krueger stuff freaks me out.”
“I’ll be with you. Come on, I’m curious.”
Donja sighed. “All right, let’s do it.”
Out into the hallway they took the stairs to the third floor which was under heavy construction. Lumber was stacked on one wall in a narrow sitting room with two huge rooms on both sides. Sheets of clear polyethylene hung over the doors as a dust protector. Pushing past the clear barriers, with Makayla in the lead they spied the wall in question. Approaching the dark opening with the smell of dust and freshly cut boards permeating the air, they paused, bodies pressed tight, eyes riveted. Makayla peeked around the wall, Donja holding on to her arm. “It’s dark up there.”
“Here. Use my phone light,” Donja said, offering it up.
“Good idea.”
With the phone in hand, following a thin trajectory of light, they slowly climbed the narrow stairs. Swiping at spider webs Donja stumbled, saved from a fall by clutching a thin iron bannister.
“You okay?” Makayla whispered, turning the light, which made Donja squint.
“Yeah, but I’m scared and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I don’t like this kind of stuff.”
“So, are you coming, or not?”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Donja scoffed. “But if something gets us don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Makayla laughed, once more following the trajectory of light up the narrow passage. At the top, they couldn’t stand, for the roof was only four feet high.
“This is too scary,” Donja whispered, grasping Makayla’s arm. “Damned creepy,” she mumbled, peering around Makayla’s body at an intricate maze of spider webs, dust covered boxes, an old spinning wheel and several stacks of what looked like birch parchments. She took a deep breath as the musty odor of dirt and rat droppings settled upon them.
“Listen,” Makayla said. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” Donja gasped with a knee-jerk reaction, grasping her tighter.
“The silence, it’s almost palpable.”