A scary attic adventure
- Laura Moore: Housebroken
- October 22, 2024
- 624
Every house should have an attic — a real, walk-up attic, not a puny little crawl space entered through a hole in the ceiling.
As a child, I lived in a richly endowed house with a huge, fully floored, easily accessible attic. It was a wonderful place, a bit shadowy and dusty, but marvelously mysterious.
It was also home to myriad boxes full of treasures such as old clothes, pictures, books, records and junk. Cast-off household items and toys, worn-out furniture, a mouse or two and, according to my brother, a witch lived up there, too.
We kids never ventured into that attic alone — none of us were that brave. Also, it was off-limits by our parents’ decree. However, one night, we were sent upstairs to amuse ourselves quietly while the grownups entertained dinner guests. Soon bored with games and television, we launched a clandestine exploratory expedition into the forbidden, witch-housing attic.
Equipped with a weak-beamed flashlight, two candles, no matches (we weren’t permitted matches) and vivid imaginations, we ascended the attic stairs en masse – five small children and a rotund, near-sighted beagle.
It was dark, dusty and delightfully scary. Light from the open attic door carved a short, narrow path in the inky blackness. We followed that path, thrilled with fear and primed for panic.
A rustling sound deep in the shadows stopped us in our tracks. Our dim-eyed dog went to investigate, bumped into a fierce old dust mop and got whacked on his head by the handle. “The witch has him,” yelled my brother. We immediately turned on our heels and stampeded down the stairs. Grabbing the mop, our dog raced past us, the mop handle in hot pursuit.
The wildly swinging, shin-cracking, head-banging malevolent mop handle drove us from the attic. We escaped with a few bumps and bruises. The dog escaped with the mop.
The noise brought the grownups running to see what was going on. They saw us sprawled outside the open attic door with our dog lying beside us with a mop in his mouth. They checked to ensure we were alright, sent us to bed and returned to their guests.
It wasn’t long before the laughter began and lasted until we fell asleep. I’m sure we all dreamed about the “mop-witch.”