Free Falter Kingdom by Michael J Seidlinger

dies.
    So then I think maybe the phone. Yeah, the phone because I’ll need light up there. Attics probably don’t have light, especially at night.
    Okay, so I’m heading up there.
    Living my life.
    I am. I’m heading up there. I keep all the lights on in my room, in the hallway, every room. The house is lit up like Christmas but it’s still dark in the attic. Random thought: Why is every ladder to every attic made of cheap, creaky wood? It creeps me out. I’ll admit it. It does.
    Living my life.
    There’s nothing in the attic.
    I shine the light around and see nothing, shining it quick, like a once-over, because deep down I don’t want to see anything. Worseis I don’t want to feel anything. Still, I make each step and I end up in the attic.
    Apparently I’m not alone.
    There’s something in here.
    The creaky floorboards match the creaky ladder.
    Each step echoes out, not like a usual echo but like there’s something taking a step forward whenever I do. It’s coming from behind me, the steps.
    I won’t look. I won’t look. I won’t look.
    The area above my room, my bed, is right over there. But that’s where Dad dumped all the boxes of old VHS tapes, movies, albums, and other junk no one uses anymore. Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe it’s over there...
    No, but then shining the light across the dark attic, I start to see things.
    I’m going to say that it’s my imagination messing with me, but that’s a bunch of bullshit because it’s obvious what it is.
    I’ve seen it as a shape out of the corner of my eye, seen it in the shower. Now I see it standing not three or four steps away from me. I shine the light in that direction, thinking I’m fearless, but when I do that it’s gone. It was a shape though. Some kind of dark mass.
    Living my life.
    I’m leaving the attic.
    That’s enough; there’s nothing here.
    No more, no fucking more.
    I’m hating myself right now. I’m really hating the situation. It’s messing with me, that’s what it’s doing. When I leave the attic, the lights are off in the house. All of them, every single one, except for the lights in my bedroom.
    I mumble, “You’re messing with me,” because I don’t want to shout it out. I read somewhere that demons feed on your energy. If it’s negative, they feed on the negativity and turn it into their own counterattack.
    I’m not up for a fight. I just want everything to stay the same. But I also like that things are different. I’m confused.
    I stand in the hallway for a long time, gripping on to my phone.
    It’s just... well, I know something’s going to happen if I walk into that room. The lights are on for a reason. In the dark of the hallway, I feel safer than being in my bedroom. But then again, I can’t just not go into my room. It’s my room. If I let it scare me out of my own room, then I’m not really living my life and everything’s changed. My future involves going back into this room.
    I know I will, but right now, it’s just so hard to step inside.
    I’m letting it all get to me. The symptoms are at their worst when I’m home alone. Being home alone is the most frightening thing imaginable.
    I’ll say it. Might as well say it.
    That’s the truth. Better to be lost in some big crowd or something than to be in a house all by yourself.
    Then it makes a sound. Sort of a whisper, but I don’t know what it’s saying.
    I’m not alone. I’m not alone in this house.
    It’s in my room, isn’t it? I know it’s in there, but I’m not going to lose it. I’m going inside like it’s just another night.
    Living my life.
    First thing I notice when I finally stop being a wuss and I walk inside: it’s not cold in my room anymore. The cold has shifted. Don’t know where it is, but it’s not here. Also, my laptop.
    I’m