I’m taking a break from my usual posts to share a spooky story. Buckle in, folks.
The time: 2018
The place: Dinkytown, USA — also known as College Town — also known as Home of Blarney’s Pub.
The situation: Spooks all around
Amidst shoveling the lawn to play beer darts and graduating college, an unexpected foe pops up.
It’s May. The flowers bloom and get crushed under unexpected snow all in the same week. Students slip on ice or walk around puddles to get to class. The fresh air fills lungs and heads hang higher. People wave. Play frisbee. Take pictures in one of those “too-big” chairs that make humans look miniature.
The grass longs to turn green but is stuck in the in-between, unsure if it can trust the warm weather. Regardless, everyone else does.
Ice cream and walks by the river and eating outside.
Scattering noises in the attic.
They keep us awake.
Only some of us hear them.
Our landlords promised to lock the door to the upstairs, attic but they didn’t.
There’s a hole on the bottom right of the door that, if you pull just enough, causes it to open.
Four of my 12 roommates (including me) go upstairs to investigate. We’re armed with scissors and the reckless knowledge of incoming graduation.
A coffin-sized box greets us to the left. We almost stop there but the spacious attic holds so much intrigue. A tiny window on the other side of the room casts a glow on an abandoned dresser.
I imagine a young girl grew up here. Died here.
A huge hole, reachable by anything or anyone, is open next to the dresser.
Finding no one hiding out, we descend the staircase. Jump the foot to the hallway outside. Close the door, knowing full well that anything upstairs could open it back up.
We hear those footsteps.
Our landlords cannot be reached.
The next day
I leave for my internship. There’s a cord running from our kitchen to the outdoors. Attached to the other end of this cord are two fridges. Sitting outside. In the parking lot. Like they think they’re cars.
Our roommate group chat blows up. No one knows what’s going on.
I go to work.
My friend contacts our landlord and asks if they put the fridges there.
No answer.
Emergency line? Not any better.
When I get home, they’re still there.
I shudder. Go inside. Someone unplugged them and threw the cord out.
That solves it.
NOPE.
In the morning
There’s a cryptic note waiting for us on a paper towel:
But the problem is… they had to get into our house to leave the note. Our doors automatically lock. There’s no way they got in without a key.
If it’s the landlords, they have to tell us. If it’s the attic monster… why did it bring its own fridges? Why doesn’t it just steal food out of our fridge like my monstrous (carefully unnamed) roommate?
I go to class.
One of my roommates gets the courage to open the fridge. Both of them are full of dead bugs.
Is it a message? Why keep these fridges running without food in them?
We’d never know.
