William couldn’t shake the memory of the crying he’d heard from inside the attic. He could put it down to tiredness, delusion, the slipping of his sanity, but it still haunted him – literally. And yet, as he lifted his phone, turned on the torch and held it afloat in the dark room, he expected to see something other than the dark.
A single bulb flickered to life after Edward snaked his hand in the attic and pulled on a frayed string. Thin, old wires clung to the walls like vines, a messy show of electrics that had been put in well after the attic was built. The amber glow did nothing to evict the heavy darkness from the room, but it helped. A little. That said, William didn’t lower his phone’s torch. In some sense, he felt as though he held a shield, protecting him from the sinister aura that weighed down the air.
The first thing William noticed was the smell. Air thick with dust and age clogged the back of his throat, lathering his tongue. Even Edward began to clear his throat, lifting the collar of his russet knitted jumper over his nose and mouth to stifle it.
But that wasn’t all that he noticed. Something else lingered beneath the mundane scent of old age and forgotten life. Something rancid. Heavy and rotting, like old shit left to fester. Rats, he told himself. If it wasn’t the rodents leaving their mark, William couldn’t place what else it could be, nor did he want to.
“Looks like a hoarder’s paradise,” Edward chimed in as he led the way into the attic. “Who knew a person could have so many belongings.”
It was on the tip of William’s tongue to tell Edward that he’d changed his mind. There was still time to turn back. Instead, he followed cautiously, at a distance, constantly aware of the exit in relation to where he was in case he needed to escape quickly.
“It’s an attic. What did you expect?” William replied, carefully stepping around a mountain of moth-eaten boxes.
“You won’t like the answer to that question.” Edward shadow-boxed his way through a terrifyingly human-shaped sheet that turned out to be draped over a coat stand. It fell to the ground with a loud thud, making William’s heart almost leap from his throat.
His boot kicked something, sending it skittering across the floor. William followed the object with the beam of his phone to find a crucifix, ladened with age, resting face down on the floorboards.
“Creepy,” Edward said, brows knitted together. “If you ask me to move it, think again. I’m not touching it.”
“Just be more careful,” William jeered. Believer or not, he wasn’t about to go pissing off Jesus if He was listening. “I know you change your career aspirations, but booting religious items is really not going to end well.”
“No more kicking Jesus, got it.” Edward lifted both hands in surrender, his ever-present grin plastered across his mouth. “You know you could be sitting on a goldmine up here.”
“One man’s goldmine is another man’s possessed item. If we come across a doll up here, I’m out.”
Edward stepped along the man-made path through the life of the previous owners. “I’m with you on that. I draw the line at dolls.”
“But not assaulting Jesus himself?”
Edward winced. “Yes, sorry about that Big-J.”
On that pursed, ducking beneath low beams, and swatting away far-too large spiderwebs.
“The fact that so much of another person’s belongings have been left for you to root through and sort. This would be most first-time buyers’ nightmares, but I think it’s a big treasure hunt.”
William knew what Edward was doing. It was obvious. He was attempting to distract William from his inner thoughts, the treacherous ones that made him shake. Whereas Edward continued on, William found himself coming to a stop. He couldn’t stop focusing on the yawning dark corners of the attic, and what else lurked in them.
Spiders, rats… sad dead men who’d killed themselves in–
Stop. Breathe.
He felt like someone was watching and likely hiding behind the many mountains of boxes and chests, ready to jump out and reveal themselves. At least it would prove that all the happenings were not of the supernatural. Then again, he wasn’t sure what was worse. An enemy you could see, or one he could pretend to ignore until they grew bored and disappeared.
“Okay, now that really is a little unsettling. More so than the idea of dolls.”
William snapped his gaze to where Edward was standing. Just shy of his shoulder was a window completely coated in grime. Cobwebs clung to the frame, giving it the impression of a stained-glass window, one you’d find in a church – beautifully designed and intricate. But that wasn’t what Edward was speaking about.
He balanced a large frame in his hand. It’d been leaned against an old kitchen chair, the painting facing away from them both. That was until Edward carefully turned it for William to see.
“Oh, my God,” William gaped, his gaze fixed on the large painted face now staring daggers through him. “Is that…”
“William, I’d like to introduce you to my family. Say hello to my great-uncle Teddy,” Edward said, his grin fading to an uncomfortable grimace. Even his eyes last lost their shine – eyes that were almost identical to those of the man who looked at me. “The mysterious and missing Mr Jones himself.”
“At least you could say you’ve found him now.”Just not in the sense that you wanted.
William wanted to leave, but he couldn’t move a muscle. The painting of Teddy Jones held him fixed to the spot – rich brown eyes, lips in the shape of a bow, jaw cut like the statues of Greek gods. It was a masterpiece, undoubtedly the most incredible painting he’d ever seen, the likeness so realistic that it couldn’t been a mirror image of the corporal man who held the frame up.
“Robert painted it,” William announced, drawing on the last journal entry he’d read. “Robert painted it as a gift for Teddy for his upcoming birthday. He… he…”
