Snarly Attic Dwellers

I had not been up in the attic in several years; mostly because of the spiders and wasps I had seen the last time I was up there, and more recently because of what we’d been hearing.  Strange, loud noises had been keeping us awake.  Neither of us was excited about opening the ceiling panel in the hallway or pulling down the fold-out stairs in the garage.

The realtor told us we were going to have to have whatever it was cleaned out before the For Sale sign went up.  That was scheduled to happen next weekend so we had to get it done this weekend.  She suggested we hire an exterminator but we didn’t want a nasty chemical or pesticide smell wafting through the house.

Saturday after breakfast I pulled the car out of the garage and moved the trash cans out of the way.  I put my shop gloves on and reached up and slowly pulled the cord to lower the stairs. Even though there were windows at each end of the attic I could see nothing but dark as I looked up.

I got my flashlight from the toolbox and clicked it on.  I started making my way up the stairs very slowly, all the while trying to keep the flashlight aimed up towards the darkness.

Halfway up the stairway I heard a heavy sounding thud coming from the attic.  Obviously I either frightened something or simply woke it up.  In either case I expected to see a set of eyes looking back at me once I got to the top.  As it turned out I didn’t have to wait that long.  Before I could even take another step there was a face looking down at me from the opening in the ceiling.

Startled, I fell backward landing flat on my back on the garage floor.  My flashlight went flying and for just a moment I was seeing stars.  I really smacked my head hard on the cement floor.  Somewhat stunned I watched as this thing examined the top step.  It looked like it was trying to figure out the ladder.  It was some kind of snarly attic dweller and now it was attempting to come down.

I wanted to jump up and run out of the garage or just scream to scare it, but I couldn’t move.  Had I damaged my spine?  Why couldn’t I move or yell for help?  Paralyzed I watched as this creature reached down, testing the top step with its weight.  It stopped for a moment and just looked at me.  It seemed to know I was hurt and no longer posed a threat.

I thought I heard a low growl and then for sure I heard another thump coming from the attic.  There was more than one of these things up there and any minute the one looking at me would figure out how to come down the steps.

I hadn’t been actually terrified since I was a small child.  I don’t recall what terrified me then but I now recall the feeling.  We both knew I was helpless for the moment and the only thing in my favor was the attic dweller’s apprehension over the stairs.  As it put a little more of its weight on the top step, I noticed a bead of drool coming from the corner of its mouth.  The drool was ever so slowly making its way down towards my face. 

I tried with all of my might to squirm out of the way but nothing was happening.  The connection between my thought process and my motor skills had suffered some kind of disconnect, and the more the thought of being paralyzed sunk in the more I panicked.  If I was sweating I sure couldn’t feel it.  I couldn’t feel anything.

I heard the top step give out a little squeak as it took the full weight of the thing.  That squeak was enough to startle it and it backed off, although not enough to alter the course of drool that was now several inches in length.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down.  The moment my eyes were closed I noticed the sound of the 9 am train.  It ran every Saturday morning at the same time. 

The tracks were on the far side of town so the only time we could hear the train was when everything else around was quiet or if like now, you closed your eyes and knew what to listen for.

So Okay, I knew it was 9 o-clock.  How did that help me?  It didn’t.  Big deal, I figured something out; something useless.  I knew having this mental conversation was my way of delaying opening my eyes.  I didn’t want to see how close the drool had gotten.  Then again, I didn’t want to just all of a sudden feel it on my face.

Again the top step squeaked and again I heard that second thud coming from the attic.  What was going on?  I couldn’t stand it.  I opened my eyes.

So why weren’t they open?  Come on – even paralyzed people can work their eyelids.  What was happening to me?  Why couldn’t I open my eyes?

My imagination was now in high gear.  I’m laying here on the garage floor, I can’t move and now I can’t see.  There are at least two attic dwellers, one of which at any moment could itself fall directly on top of me.

 

 



Hey!  What's on my cheek?

Is that drool?