I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was only 10 years old at the time, and my family had just moved into a new house. It was a big old Victorian-style house with high ceilings, wooden paneling, and large rooms. My parents had bought it for a great price because the previous owner had left in a hurry, and no one knew why. But my parents thought it was a great opportunity, and my siblings and I were excited about our new home.
One day, as I was exploring the house, I came across a staircase that led to the attic. It was a narrow, wooden staircase, and it creaked with every step. I was curious, so I decided to take a look. As I climbed up the stairs, I noticed that the light in the attic was on, even though no one was supposed to be up there.
I reached the top of the stairs and peered into the attic. It was a large, open space with a slanted ceiling. The light was coming from a single bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. I stepped into the attic and looked around. There were boxes stacked along the walls, and old furniture covered with sheets. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.
As I walked through the attic, I suddenly heard a creaking sound. I stopped and listened. The sound was coming from behind me. I turned around and saw that the staircase was closing, the wooden panels folding in on themselves like a book. I was trapped in the attic.
I started to panic. I tried to push against the panels, but they wouldn’t budge. I was trapped, and I didn’t know what to do. Then I heard a voice whisper my name. I froze. I looked around, but no one was there. The voice whispered my name again, and I realized it was coming from one of the boxes stacked against the wall.
I walked over to the box and opened it. Inside, I found an old diary. I opened it, and the first page read, “This is the diary of Sarah.” I realized that the voice was coming from the diary. I started to read, and the words on the page were describing what was happening to me in real-time. I couldn’t believe it.
As I read on, I learned that Sarah was the previous owner of the house. She had been trapped in the attic for years, and no one knew she was there. She had been writing in her diary, and the words I was reading were her last words. She had died in the attic, and her ghost was now haunting me.
I tried to run, but I couldn’t move. The ghost of Sarah had me in her grasp, and I was trapped in the attic with her. I was there for hours, reading her diary and hearing her voice whisper my name. And then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The staircase opened, and I was able to escape.
I never went back to the attic. I told my parents what had happened, but they didn’t believe me. They thought I was making it up, trying to get attention. But I know what I experienced was real. And to this day, I still have nightmares about that staircase and the ghost of Sarah who was trapped there.