Page 84 of Possessed By Shadows

“A year maybe? I couldn’t find a lot of details.”

Lukas had bought the house of the cop he’d killed? That sounded like a really bad idea. The thing we’d caught on camera upstairs hadn’t looked much like a person. Not the way the Latino girl had, or even Adrian, as faded as he’d been. I made my way up the rest of the stairs to the second floor. All the lights were on here too. The rooms still mostly empty, but the last room set up with equipment. I wasn’t going to sit down and watch videos right this minute, but I hesitated to go upstairs.

The pounding again. Racing feet, like it was coming toward the stairs and heading down. I ran myself, trying to get to the bottom of the stairs and see what was coming since I was the only one who seemed to be able to see. But the steps stopped and there was nothing but darkness going upward. That swirl of dark energy. Shadows or whatever. I shivered, feeling cold, and more than a little apprehensive as I stared upward.

“No working lights up there,” my dad said. “Replaced the bulb five times and it keeps popping. Called an electrician to come look at the wiring, but it will be a few days…and this shit keeps happening.”

“Is there stuff left in the attic?” I thought everything had been emptied the day we had the dumpster, but maybe he had put stuff back up there.

“Nah. What might be worth something has been sent to appraisers. Wasn’t much. The rest tossed or reclaimed by a family member before the dumpster arrived. This guy was a hoarder of crap. Lots of clothes, shoes, all weird sizes.”

That was strange.

“Stay here,” I told him and started to climb the narrow stairway up. It was sort of a half ladder, half stair thing that my hip protested. But I clung to the rungs and flipped on one of the flashlights. I almost expected to run face-to-face into something the second I popped my head up into the attic. It was that horror movie generated fear, that something was waiting to jump me. And maybe it was. But the attic was impossibly black, even under the assault of the too bright light. The shadows heavy and thick, I crawled off the ladder instead of standing, hoping I didn’t fall down the damn thing trying to find my way out later.

It looked like smoke. It felt like smoke. Choking my lungs a little as I wheezed. It smelled like mold. Probably should have worn a mask.

I shone the flashlight around slowly, trying to see beyond the smoke, even if it was to some spooky face. Nothing but shadow. I couldn’t even see the far wall. The space wasn’t huge, though there was a solid floor rather than only open beams with insulation like a lot of attics were. That was a little strange as there wasn’t really enough space to put a comfortable living area. Why finish the floor? Just for storage?

There wasn’t enough room to stand up straight through most of the space. The slope of the roof tapered sharply on the sides and I had to shine the light upward a few times to keep from knocking myself cold.

I made my way to the wall, reaching it with my hands before I could see it. Once I found the wall, I turned to search the room again. No idea where the hole leading down went. Why was it so dark? Overshadowed? Heavy?

“Hello?” I called. “Someone up here?” Keeping one hand on the wall, I slowly followed it all the way around the room. Everything really had been pulled out of here.

It’s all gone.

I heard it in the barest of whispers.

“What’s all gone?” I asked.

Gone, gone, gone.

“Adrian?” Why would he be here?

I circled the room twice, more than a little disoriented by the shadows. The only things I found in the room were a handful of cameras, mounted up high on the wall. Probably connected to the setup downstairs.

“What’s gone?” I asked again. At least I found the stairs. The opening was close to one side, but not close enough that I’d fall in unless I was in a hurry to get the fuck out. And I had to admit I was kind of on the verge of that.

Face my fears? Sure. Never mind the building sensation of doom in my gut. Was this part of what Micah felt when he talked about ants on his skin? At least he was home safe.

I found a spot near the opening but against the wall, and slid down to sit to give my hip a break. It was really fucking with me lately. Probably didn’t help that I’d had wild monkey sex with my hot boyfriend earlier. But it seemed like a good idea to etch the memory of us in our skin. In case I never came back.

It’s all gone.

I hoped the audio was catching this. “Did Lukas get rid of it?” Did it mean all the stuff we had tossed out? Since the voice sounded like little more than a whisper it was hard to tell which direction it was coming from.

Staring out into the room, light in front of me like a shield, I wondered if I was strong enough to do this. Was any of this helping? How much was I facing my fear of this ability I had, when I sat quaking in the glare of a flashlight?

I sighed and turned it off, instantly plunged into pitch-black darkness. A vibration of anxiety intensified in my spine, a warning, like my body was on high alert and wanted my brain to know we should be cautious. But that fear wasn’t going to help anything. It would just make me shut down and run.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and began a short meditation ritual Micah and I had been working on. It helped most when I was on the verge of a panic attack, or teetering on the edge of a PTSD episode. Something we practiced often when I was feeling fine. The idea had been to make it more of a muscle memory thing. An instant reaction when I needed help with grounding. Of course, it was always easier with Micah nearby.

The count was long and slow. Several minutes passed with my eyes closed, the vibrations around me fluctuating. Pounding. Racing footsteps. I forced myself to keep my eyes closed and focus on counting my breathing. The chill in the air increased, my lungs stinging with the cold as I breathed. It wanted my attention. Not my demon. That thing was hot, fire like lava that could burn me from the inside out. This was cold, icy, and brutal as my nerves felt like needles were biting into me. Was that what Micah meant about ants? It did feel like something prickling or biting, not my skin as much as my soul?

Too much philosophy I thought and breathed again. Counting.

I couldfeel it. Right in front of me. Like it was demanding I look at it, acknowledge it, give it strength.