I can hear something in the
attic. It must be a bird because it's making fluttering noises.
Probably a sparrow or perhaps a robin. It has been there since last
night, trying to find its way out.
Now it's screeching and I can barely stand the sound. I want it to stop, just stop. Should I go up and end it? Could I shoo it out the way it got in? My cat would take care it, but the cat is old now and she stopped hunting some time ago.
Oh stop, stop screeching! I just want to go to sleep and forget. Why won't it stop screeching? It's in pain I know it is. Poor thing.
It's stopped. Must be exhausted from all the flying about. Wait. Is it...crying?
Now it's screeching and I can barely stand the sound. I want it to stop, just stop. Should I go up and end it? Could I shoo it out the way it got in? My cat would take care it, but the cat is old now and she stopped hunting some time ago.
Oh stop, stop screeching! I just want to go to sleep and forget. Why won't it stop screeching? It's in pain I know it is. Poor thing.
It's stopped. Must be exhausted from all the flying about. Wait. Is it...crying?
The attic door opens by way
of a rod with a hooked end. The realtor said the rod went missing
years ago. It did not matter at the time. I never meant to go up
there. Now I had to. I had to see what was up there.
The garage! Maybe there's something in the garage. Let's see. The car. The lawnmower. Barbecue grill and that stupid trellis I never put up. Nothing. Keep looking. There. There it is between the drywall and the concrete. Stuck in the gap. I've been looking at that thing for years thinking it was part of the floor.
Hook it into the small bar on the attic door and pull. Pull. PULL! Shit! Damn stairs. The steps creak as I go up and I can hear the thing scurrying away to hide. God don't let it jump on my head.
Bigger up here than I thought it would be. Should have known, old house like this. Shelves, boxes and a big pickle jar rolling toward me. Giggling. Birds don't giggle. A child? No a child couldn't get up here without the rod and it didn't fly in. Something did though.
There it is! Huddled in the corner staring at me, smiling and it looks hungry.
The garage! Maybe there's something in the garage. Let's see. The car. The lawnmower. Barbecue grill and that stupid trellis I never put up. Nothing. Keep looking. There. There it is between the drywall and the concrete. Stuck in the gap. I've been looking at that thing for years thinking it was part of the floor.
Hook it into the small bar on the attic door and pull. Pull. PULL! Shit! Damn stairs. The steps creak as I go up and I can hear the thing scurrying away to hide. God don't let it jump on my head.
Bigger up here than I thought it would be. Should have known, old house like this. Shelves, boxes and a big pickle jar rolling toward me. Giggling. Birds don't giggle. A child? No a child couldn't get up here without the rod and it didn't fly in. Something did though.
There it is! Huddled in the corner staring at me, smiling and it looks hungry.
Don't scare it. Get it in
the open and drop the jar over it. Have a better look at it. I swear
it almost looks human. How can that be? It's the light or rather lack
of light has me seeing things wrong. It's just a bird or a bat. But
birds don't cry and bats don't giggle. I was hearing things, I must
have been.
Something to entice it out with, that's what I need. Check my pockets. Ah, the mints. Bad habit sucking on them all day long. Better than smoking. One left in the roll. On the floor with it and wait.
Come on and get your treat. Closer, closer. You know you want the sweet candy. YES! Got you.
Hands, legs, body and face. No, it can't be. They don't exist they just don't. What was it my mother used to call them? Vexers? Whenever we had moved into a new house she always cleaned even if the house was spotless. “I do it to keep the vexers out.” She has said when I asked her. “Family before always has their vexers. They don't bother them but if you don't clean the old family from the house the vexers will find you.”
It was a story to scare me, that's all. Something to get me to clean my room when I was a small boy. Yet there it was and nothing at all like the monsters I imagined as a child. It was tiny and delicate with smooth skin and white wisps of hair. Its eyes soft and gentle.
What else was it mother said about them? I know there was something.
Something to entice it out with, that's what I need. Check my pockets. Ah, the mints. Bad habit sucking on them all day long. Better than smoking. One left in the roll. On the floor with it and wait.
Come on and get your treat. Closer, closer. You know you want the sweet candy. YES! Got you.
Hands, legs, body and face. No, it can't be. They don't exist they just don't. What was it my mother used to call them? Vexers? Whenever we had moved into a new house she always cleaned even if the house was spotless. “I do it to keep the vexers out.” She has said when I asked her. “Family before always has their vexers. They don't bother them but if you don't clean the old family from the house the vexers will find you.”
It was a story to scare me, that's all. Something to get me to clean my room when I was a small boy. Yet there it was and nothing at all like the monsters I imagined as a child. It was tiny and delicate with smooth skin and white wisps of hair. Its eyes soft and gentle.
What else was it mother said about them? I know there was something.
Doesn't matter. Mom said a
lot of things. Most of it nonsense.
Now what to do with you, my little friend. Shall I keep you like a captive bug in a jar? Maybe let you go so you can fly off and be with others like you? There's always the scientific community willing to pay for specimens and you are quite the specimen.
No can't do that. They'll either do tests or at the worst, dissect you. Pin you on a board and display your corpse under glass. Then after all the excitement of the find of the century died down you'd collect dust and be put in some old box.
Why are you giggling? No that's not you, is it? Damn! Something bit me. What the hell? Oh shit, I've gotta get out of here! So tired. Rest for a moment and then I'll...
What's that smell? Smells like old pickles. My throat hurts so bad. What is that? A body? Wearing my clothes? I'm dreaming. Come on wake up! Oh my god they're eating it! They're eating my body! I can see them through the glass of the pickle jar.
Damn, what was it she said? Think, think!
“Vexers are never alone, Jack, and they're always hungry.”
Now what to do with you, my little friend. Shall I keep you like a captive bug in a jar? Maybe let you go so you can fly off and be with others like you? There's always the scientific community willing to pay for specimens and you are quite the specimen.
No can't do that. They'll either do tests or at the worst, dissect you. Pin you on a board and display your corpse under glass. Then after all the excitement of the find of the century died down you'd collect dust and be put in some old box.
Why are you giggling? No that's not you, is it? Damn! Something bit me. What the hell? Oh shit, I've gotta get out of here! So tired. Rest for a moment and then I'll...
What's that smell? Smells like old pickles. My throat hurts so bad. What is that? A body? Wearing my clothes? I'm dreaming. Come on wake up! Oh my god they're eating it! They're eating my body! I can see them through the glass of the pickle jar.
Damn, what was it she said? Think, think!
“Vexers are never alone, Jack, and they're always hungry.”
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