how haunted is my attic
I recently moved to a new house—a small 1950’s one-bedroom residence in Portland. It has a nice back yard and a garage which I’m super psyched about. Everything is well and good except for how COMPLETELY HAUNTED IT PROBABLY IS. Close friends and peers will note that I have a terrible fear of ghosts. Here I will recount the troubling events of this weekend as they appear in my diary, edited and complemented with photographs for the sake of the reader:
When first lumbering up the stairs I’m startled by something rubbing against my head. I look up to see:
ZOMG.
Cassie, also startled by this CREEPY FREAKING NOOSE WINCH, asks me to climb up and remove it. I politely decline because I’ve seen this movie and I know how this goes down. The moment I touch this devil rope, it animates and strangles me making it look like a suicide. Nobody believes wife’s story, she goes insane, the vicious ghost-rope cycle repeats, SORRY HOUSE—BUT I’M NOT PLAYING YOUR GAME.
So then I’m just looking around the attic, already sufficiently creeped out mind you, and I find something. It is barely visible and hidden on a rafter.
IT IS THE CREEPIEST NEEDLE AND THREAD EVER. How long has this thing been here more importantly, why?? Now you may be say “Yeah so what, Brad…big deal…it’s not like you found a head or anything.” LOOK MAN, I KNOW how ghosts work. You pick something like this up and THIS HAPPENS:
By this point, I’ve had enough. ENOUGH OF THIS GHOST HOUSE, I say. And I’m walking towards the stairs. And I wonder—why does that wall over there…have a hinge?
…
SECRET DOOR!
I’m about to open this thing up and I’m praying, PRAYING that it’s just chimney access or an old fuse box or something. I open it up and there is a goddamn ROOM back there. I slam the door shut and run downstairs. I’m pretty sure I saw this…
…BUT I promise I’m never going back in there to check. SO YOU CAN JUST DEAL WITH THAT.
UPDATE: Kyle came over later and checked it out. It was just an old bidet.
THE END?!?!
