Chapter One

The Raven and the Attic

The house positioned across from the mailbox labeled “19 Churchill Road” reminded everyone of the exact same

thing - a skull. It sat ominously atop an unsightly hill of brown, dead grass, like a hideous vulture perched dismally aloft a

barren throne, surveying its territory. It had decaying siding of a gloomy grayish color that distinctively resembled the

shade of bone beneath a corroded blanket of creaky black shingling. Embedded randomly around the house’s facade were

vacant, misty windows of fogged glass that appeared strikingly similar to empty, glaring eye sockets. The barren garden

writhing about the rotted front porch was nothing but a repulsive swarm of gnarled vines and ivy, like a nest of

venomous serpents stalking prey. All and all the house was something not to be approached, and the rest of the

inhabitants of the town took it upon themselves to avoid the street as much as they could altogether. As a matter of fact,

they more than likely would have completely demolished the building if my family and I hadn’t lived in it for close to ten

years.

The city was quiet, as usual, with the exception of maybe the occasional icy December breeze that now and

then swept down the roads and the remaining few birds still chirping in the branches of the bare trees lining each side of

the avenue. This, of course, was nothing new - all of us on Churchill Road were quite accustomed to the lack of

movement and visitors (always entirely due to the avoidance of house number 19, I’m sure), and I often noticed people

shakily glancing out their windows as Kandy and I passed by. We were quite a pair, us two, dressed identically in our

hideous school uniforms (composed of a horrible white blouse embroidered with the fancy initials “SA”, plaid skirt,

knee-high socks and black shoes; do they make uniforms so appalling on purpose? I think so) and matching hair and eyes

(except Kandy’s blond hair fell almost to her waist while mine was only shoulder length). Many times the two of us had

been confused as sisters, and understandably so, I believe; we’ve known each other for at least half our lives, and I think

we act as if we’re related many times.

“......So he told me to read over chapter seven again,” Kandy finished, emitting a discouraged groan while gazing

down at the paper she held with a large red 69% circled in its upper right corner. “And he still won’t give me at least a

C on this assignment. I’ll tell you, Nikka, this totally ruins my average. And now I really have to cram to learn this

before midterms.”

“You’ll do fine, Kandy,” I assured her, casting her a encouraging smile. “Believe me, you always do. Perfect

Miss Horton, A+ average in every subject - ”

“That’s not true!!” she interrupted me abruptly, accidentally crumpling her paper. Kandy and I have been

friends ever since she had moved to Chester in fourth grade, and she knew (as well as absolutely everyone else) that she

was incredibly gifted with high intelligence. Getting a D+ back on a paper was absolutely devastating, and she knew it,

but refused to show any anguish or any signs of her knowledge at all, for that matter. Of course, knowing her so well I

could see through her transparent act. “This isn’t the first D I’ve gotten, you know - ”

“D+,” I corrected her tauntingly, giving her a playful shove on her shoulder. “Besides, Mr. Michaels treats

everyone like that. He just told me the other day that my quiz scores are gradually falling and I should come in for extra

help on Thursdays. This was after I had just gotten through telling everyone how proud I was of my B- average in his

stupid class. He’s evil, I tell you, some sort of evil biology tyrant!”

“...Yeah.” Kandy let out a weary laugh, glancing down at the paper in her hands, than after some hesitation

crumpled it up completely and shoved it roughly into her pocket. “Forget it, then!! I don’t need him, I’ll fix my average

on my own!” She looked over at me with a smile. “Hey, Nik, I was meaning to ask you - you free tomorrow night? I

wanted to go see that new chick flick playing at Cinema 10. Oh my gosh, Russ Caldwell is so cute!! He plays this heroic

airplane pilot who finds true love while - ”

“Sorry, Kandy, I already promised the Davises I’d babysit Julia tomorrow night,” I interrupted sheepishly, trying

to distract myself by watching a rather large raven flutter gracefully into the thin branches of the evergreen positioned on

the side of the road to my right and emit a throaty squawk. “I agreed a while ago, and it would be really horrible of me to

back out now. Besides, Lydia already told me the ending - he’s diagnosed with some sort of rare brain tumor and dies.

And the girl he falls in love with builds a house beside the graveyard his buried in. Kinda cliché if you ask me.”

“Ah, what do you know.” She let out a sigh, then cast a glance up at the streetsign we now stood beside reading

OAKWOOD LANE, where a second grand crow sat, glaring down at us through piercing amber eyes. “Well, here’s my

street,” she told me, now leaving my side to walk lazily down the adjacent road and turning to wave over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class, OK? Maybe we can do something over the weekend. And you’re going to see that

movie with me. Whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I snorted with a sarcastic laugh, watching her continue down the road before me. “See ya

later, Kandy.” I remained in that position for several seconds, staring blankly out after her even though she had left my

field of vision, then ran a hand through my shoulder-length blond hair and turned to leave. Suddenly the silence was

severed brutally by an ominous, ear-piercing screech.

With a startled gasp my head snapped upwards, back to where I remembered seeing the large, partially bare

evergreen tree, and inadvertently stumbled a number of steps backwards. The once empty branches now were entirely

enveloped by hunched black shapes, all remaining motionless with the exception of jerking heads, swiveling eyeballs, and

expanding chests with every shriek. The limbs of the tree were completely strewn with hideous black crows, much

larger than I had remembered seeing them in the past, all perched stagnantly on the branches and glaring contemptuously

down at me, occasionally ejecting threatening cackles. I drew in another startled gasp, unable to tear away my cemented

feet from the pavement, and for several helpless seconds I was trapped defenselessly beneath the branches of the tree,

gaping vacantly up at the menacing flock overhead.

The raven closest to me - approximately three feet above my head on the lowest limb of the tree - hopped easily

in place, cocking its head from side to side in jerky, sudden motions. Although its sharp saffron eyes never left my

frozen position beneath it, its crooked, needlelike beak suddenly snapped open and let out a blaring, earsplitting scream,

much louder than the rest, and all of a sudden there was the deafening rustle of hundreds of black plumed wings

simultaneously taking flight. I instinctively tossed my arms over my head as a hailstorm of scratchy ebony feathers

streamed through the air around me and all I could hear were the ear-piercing, muffled screeches of the hysterical birds

unexpectedly swooping about me.

Get away from me....Get away...!!! I continued to shield myself with my arms, which I could now feel were

gradually becoming etched with various scratches and wounds as the rioting crows flailed out ruthlessly with their sharp

talons as they flew, and now I could hear that my lips were inadvertently emitting a series of frightened, tearful

whimpers. A sudden tug at my scalp brought me to my senses, and I suddenly realized that a raven had a large clump of

my blond hair clutched tightly in its feet and was now yanking mercilessly on it while incessantly jabbing its sharp beak

into my skin. What are they doing?! my panicked mind screamed, forcing one eye open to gape blankly at another crow

hovering clumsily in the air before my face and shrieking loudly at me. Why are they attacking me....?? Let....me....go!!!

In a split-second decision I suddenly found myself ducking roughly towards the ground, tearing my hair free of

the bird’s grip and now attempting to dash beneath the attacking flock around me. The birds let out a series of startled,

angry squawks, and after only a brief hesitation I became all too aware of their flight turning more vicious and furious,

circling intensely about me. I stooped lower still, almost on my stomach on the pavement, and dashed desperately

forward, finally clearing the flock of ravenous birds and continuing to rush madly down the street. It only took a second

or two before I could hear the ravens circling about and streaking after me in hot pursuit, still crowing loudly and

hovering behind me in a menacing black cloud.

There....I could see it now, only a hundred or so feet away!! Perched hideously atop that wretched lawn...house

number 19, my house, dark and impending against the bare trees around it. Its eyelike windows watched me sprinting

up towards it, almost mockingly. If only I could make it...!!

The birds were closing in now, attempting to surround me in a strategic shrinking loop, and as I ran I was

forced to flail out defensively, knocking away several attacking ravens as they once again tried to grab my hair or scratch

my arms. My ears were ringing with the overpowering shrillness of each cry, and my mind had numbed with confusion

and the racing of my heart. I could feel the scratchy texture of the dead grass beneath my shoes as I dashed up the lawn,

only feet from the front door poised atop the rotting porch....I had to make it, I just had to...!!

My brain snapped back into reality as my right hand spontaneously seized the cold doorknob, and with only a

moment’s hesitation I forced the knob to turn, ripped open the door, staggered inside, and slammed it shut behind me.

The crows continued to shriek angrily and claw at the door, but these noises had become significantly muffled due to the

barrier between us. I sat, panting horribly and gaping at the closed door, where I could still hear the din of the aggressive

birds outside, then exhaled a weary sigh and collapsed weakly against it. “....I...I did it....” I breathed, feeling a gradual,

relieved smile seep up onto my lips. “I made it...I escaped!!” I reached up to push back my sweaty hair, then slowly

lowered my hand and eyed the blood on my fingertips. It was seeping out of a small wound on my forehead where I

guess I had been stabbed by one of the birds’ beaks. “...That was crazy, why the heck were they attacking me...??”

My head jerked upwards as heavy footsteps rang out dully from the kitchen, sounding like a series of lead

cannonballs being thrown solidly onto the floor, and soon I watched my older brother Jared step into the entranceway

before me. Jared was several years older than I was - he had just started his freshman year at the local college in

September - but he only stood maybe an inch or so taller than me due to his hideous posture, like he had just been

slammed in the stomach by a punch. He had short, dark blond hair that had been buzzed at the sides and nape of the

neck (usually hidden by some sort of outrageous hat), and a pair of grayish eyes behind blue, wide-rimmed glasses. He

had a rather ominous, threatening appearance, with his wide, square shoulders, expressionless face, and constant stubble

that he never seemed to shave off his cheeks. He had been known in the past to lose his temper now and then, but I

knew he was relatively harmless, like a monstrous stuffed gorilla.

He had obviously been just heading out the door when I dashed into the house, judging by the coat zippered up

around him and the heavy backpack hanging over his shoulder, not to mention the way he was vacantly gaping at my

form panting against the postern. He was always quite a sight, and I especially noticed it today; his normally formidable

appearance was coupled with a baggy old sweatshirt with pictures of flying ducks, faded gray jeans, and a wild, furry

cowboy hat decorated with leopard-esque spots. I normally would have commented on such an ensemble, but that was

definitely the last thing on my mind at the moment.

“What’s the matter with you, Squirt?” he questioned me finally in his deep, baritone voice that always reminded

me of a passing train - it’s a mystery to just about everyone that his favorite hobby happens to be singing, and that he

croons in a rather unnaturally high tenor range . He seemed to at last notice that I was anxious. “What are you doing?

I’ve got a three o’ clock class, let me by.”

“...You....you can’t go out there!!” I cried despondently, throwing myself defensively against him as he reached

for the doorknob. “You can’t!! They’ll eat you alive!!”

I watched his face gradually twist into a bewildered, sarcastic expression. Looking back, I guess I really did

sound insane. “.....Ummm, Nikka, what are you talking about...?”

“Blackbirds!!” I exclaimed worriedly, grabbing hold of one of his sleeves in a tight fist. “I....I was just walking

home with Kandy from school when....when all of a sudden out of nowhere these blackbirds swooped out of the trees

and started dive-bombing me and grabbing my hair and....and...look what they did to me!!” I burst out loudly, thrusting

forward my arms, which were still aflame with a red-hot stinging sensation, and revealing the various scrapes raked in

zigzag patterns all over my flushed skin. “They’re still out there, Jared, you can’t leave!! You’ve got to call the police or

something, they could really hurt someone - !!”

Jared didn’t answer at first; he stared silently down at my exposed arms, then slowly reached forward, took one

gently by the wrist, and looked closer at the wounds scattered all over it. “......Jeez, Nikka, what happened to you?” he

asked me, seemingly deaf to my entire explanation. “You klutz, did you trip over your own feet on the road or

something? Go get some band-aids, for pete’s sake.”

“Jared!!!” I screamed angrily, whipping my arm out of his grasp. “Weren’t you listening to me at all??! There

were blackbirds!! Black...birds!! There must have been at least a thousand!! All around me!!”

“...Nikka, it’s the middle of December,” he huffed matter-of-factly, placing his hands on his hips and gazing

sarcastically down at me, causing his backpack to slide heavily down his arm. “There aren’t any birds around here

anymore. They’ve all flown south. If you’re a big oaf, just admit it. Lying is futile.”

“Jared, I’m not lying!!” I shouted defensively. “I swear, they’re all - ”

“Move out of the way,” he interrupted me brusquely, shoving me aside and reaching for the doorknob.

“No!!” I shrieked, lunging for him. “Jared, the blackbirds - !!”

“Enough, Nikka,” he told me firmly, holding me back with one hand as he started to open the door with the

other. “I told you, I’ve got a class in fifteen minutes. I’ve got to leave. Now.”

“Jared!!!!!!!” I let out one final, terrified scream as he yanked the door open, and in a last ditch attempt at my own

safety I threw my arms defensively up in front of my face, backed up against the wall, and squeezed my eyes shut.

Silence.

I froze for a moment, listening to my ragged, sharp breaths and feeling my heart hammering its way through my

ribcage, then slowly slid one eye open a crack. I immediately caught sight of Jared through the gap between my arms,

glancing back at me from the open doorway with a sarcastic grin on his face. The outdoors had remained silent, with the

exception of a light breeze fluttering across the lawn. Nothing had swooped in through the open door. “Oh my God,

Nikka!!!” he screamed mockingly, flailing his hands around wildly and ducking beneath imaginary birds. “Look at them

all!!! Oh, God, help me, Nikka, get them off of me!! Help, Nikka, help - !!!”

“...Wh...what??” I exclaimed in confusion, dashing by him out onto the front porch and glancing around. The

road remained motionless, painted immobily against a canvas of vibrant leaves littering the ground. Not a scrap of

evidence remained from the attacking ravens, not even a black feather on the ground or an echoing squawk down the

street. Even the front door, though as rotted and ugly as it had always been, had not been defaced by any violent claw

marks. “........Where.....where are they?” I stammered quietly, surveying the entire expanse of my front lawn. Why I

was actually searching for these murderous crows in the first place is beyond me. “Where the heck could they have

gone?! That many birds don’t just vanish into thin air!! I don’t understand - ”

“Nikka!! Aahhhhh!!!” Jared was still continuing his annoying little imitation of me, hiding his head beneath one

arm while swiping offensively at the air with the other and emitting a series of high-pitched, girlish squeals. “Nikka,

please help me!! They’ll eat me alive, help me!! Call the police!! Of course I’m not clumsy and fall on my butt, I really am

getting attacked by birds!! Nikka, what are you waiting for!!”

“Shut up,” I snorted angrily, hiding my face as I whirled around and stormed back in through the doorway, and

now I could feel the heat seeping conspicuously up into my cheeks. “For the record, they really were there. Just

because they’re not pecking out your eyeballs right now doesn’t mean they weren’t here at all.”

“Of course they were.” Jared finally straightened himself up and fixed his hat, which amongst his fun had fallen

askew atop his head, and cast me an amused smirk. “Now, make sure you don’t get attacked again while I’m at school. I

know how afraid you must have been. I’ll be home at six, but if they come back before then - ”

His voice was cut off as I abruptly slammed the door shut, wishing he had been close enough for it to cut off his

nose, then whirled about and stomped deeper into the entranceway. “Stupid jerk...” I muttered angrily to myself through

gritted teeth, smashing my school books heavily down upon the table near the coat closet. “I was afraid, for his

information....he doesn’t need to rub it in my face...!!”

The interior of my house was just about as hideous as the exterior, if not more so, with its vast, empty rooms

constructed entirely out of the same faded ashen wood and dense stench of dust and grime. The entranceway was

enormous and expansive, with no furniture except the insignificant table I had placed my books upon and a small, dirty

blue rug laid out in front of the door. Beyond that was a broad uncarpeted staircase and landing made of the same

revolting timber as the rest of the building, which lead up to the second floor bordered by a line of corroded railing. Each

chamber of the house was very large and hollow but relatively dark and dreary, with no wallpaper of any kind, and with

hardly any light with the exception of any natural illumination that filtered in through the murky windows or the little,

flickering glow that came from the single lightbulb suspended in the center of every ceiling, which half the time did not

work anyway was usually strewn with cobwebs and a layer of powder in the first place. The house hadn’t changed at

all, not through the eight years of my life that I had lived there, and even the constant musty odor of sawdust, dirt, and

wood that I gradually had grown accustomed to still constantly lingered in the air, and the thick layer of grime, though

fervently scrubbed away, gradually settled itself back into its original position after only an hour or two.

I furiously tore open the closet door, probably harder than I meant to judging by the loud corroded squeal

emitted by the rusted hinges and how I could feel it shudder unsteadily in my hand. I reached forward and yanked a coat

hanger off of the rod hanging about five feet off the ground holding the clothing, then began to pull the sweater I was

wearing off my shoulders. “....No one listens to me at all....” I was still quite irritated by Jared’s poking fun at my fear, and

although I attempted to appear indifferent, my emotions showed in the way I was violently shoving the hanger into my

cardigan’s sleeves. “It’s always ‘Nikka, do this, Nikka, do that...’ but when it comes to me, who cares?? I’ve had just

about enough of it...!!” I rammed my sweater, now viciously and messily hooked onto the hanger, back onto the coat rod,

which was already completely covered in other garments and made this quite a task. I exhaled an annoyed breath, then

reached forward and slid my hand around the farthest jacket hanging on the bar closest to the left wall of the closet

(which was an unnaturally large coat of my father’s, with a furry neckline and at least thirty zippered pockets). Then,

with a great deal of strain, I shoved aside the entire mass of hanging clothes, revealing the hidden back wall enveloped in

shadows and what I had been looking for - a trapdoor embedded into the bulwark.

Frightened of the house’s unnatural appearance, this is what everyone failed to explore to find: an entire

concealed channel of secret passageways and chambers, all hidden behind the building’s corroded walls and beneath its

rotted floorboards. My early childhood was very uneventful, and rather lonely, since none of my friends from school

ever dared to visit me at my house (afraid of being attacked by ghosts or dive-bombed by savage bats, I suppose...or at

least that’s what I gathered from the rumors swimming through the school), so after class was over I often returned

home to an empty building and kept myself busy in front of the TV. However, one day while walking down one of the

many dark, dusty hallways to get to the den where the television was, my foot fell clumsily through a rotted floorboard

and revealed a hidden tunnel underneath. After that, my afternoons no longer consisted of courtroom shows and salted

crackers; from the minute I returned home from school to the second my father walked through the door (he was always

the first one home after me), I could be found fervently searching every moldy chamber of the building, looking for new

passageways or rooms in every space possible. I never really found anything especially breathtaking - my most prized

discovery was a doorway I found behind the stove that revealed a hidden staircase leading up to the storage closet on the

second floor - but the simple thrill of excitement and exhilaration I got from every fresh detection was enough of a

encouragement for me to keep exploring (not to mention that the rooms and hallways that only I knew about provided a

rather peaceful hideaway from angry parents - not that that matters, of course).

At once point I had finally looked up the history of my house in a bunch of ancient-looking books I had gotten at

the library to find out why it had been built in such a way. Unfortunately, just about every volume had a different

answer, ranging from a haven to country rebels during feudal times to a bar used mainly by thieves, outlaws, and women

accused of witchcraft. No matter how long I searched, I never got a straight explanation, so eventually I guess I just lost

interest or decided I really didn’t care anyway. Since then, I’ve kept using my secret passages as convenient and

interesting ways to explore the rest of the house.

I immediately noticed the long tassel hanging towards the top of the trapdoor, and, struggling to keep holding

back the massive garments with one hand, used the other to grab it and give it a sharp tug. The door instantly swung

ajar, with a loud, rusty squeal and an explosion of dust, burning my eyes and clogging my throat. Cringing against the

fiery grime slithering through the air, I cast one glance back through the open hatchway, which revealed a dark, dusty

compartment in the wall, with floorboards that ascended at a sharp angle upwards covered in a series of thin planks

obviously used to assist in climbing. Groaning, I managed to slip my body past the heavy coats, which immediately

shifted back into place behind me and instantly squelched the light which had once trickled into the closet, then bent my

head to enter the small compartment. Holding my breath so I wouldn’t choke on the suffocating dust slinking through

the darkness, I reached downwards, grabbed hold of the door hanging weakly beneath the opening, and gradually closed

it behind me. It latched back into place with a sharp click.

I have to admit, this journey had at first scared me, the initial time I had actually discovered the niche in the

wall. After the door was closed, I was plunged into complete and utter darkness, with nothing to guide me forward with

the exception of the slanted wood beneath me, the sloping walls on either side, and the planks nailed every couple of feet.

Although the passage was incredibly cramped, it was easy enough to proceed through - the plywood bolted to the inclined

floorboards served rather well as rungs on a ladder and made it fairly simple to climb upwards, like scaling a slide on the

playground.

This time I climbed slower than usual, due to the haunting fear after having met up with a rats’ nest a week or

two earlier. Other than that, the darkness, and the choking scent of decay, I truly didn’t mind going up through this

passageway. I knew just about everyone else crawling through this hole in the wall would have had trouble, but even in

the darkness I was an expert - I knew exactly which climbing planks were missing (the seventh and the fifteenth) and

that an old cobweb hung stickily down from the rafter over the twenty-second. Just after I had pulled myself up using

the final and forty-eighth board, I reached upwards, felt the loose ceiling strip of wood just inches over my head, and

shifted it aside.

I was instantly blinded by the wave of light that flooded mercilessly down into the crawlspace, burning my eyes

as it splashed against the dusty walls tightly compacted on both my sides and continued to cascade deeper down into the

darkness. I reached up through the hole that had been made by moving aside the board and pushed away the corner of

the rug that had been resting on top of it, then pulled my whole body up out of the compartment and landed heavily on

my stomach on the other side. I instantly recognized my surroundings as my bedroom, hopelessly dreary (even though I

had desperately tried in the past to brighten it up before I finally called it quits) with its dark, peeling walls and smell of

wood. Just like the other rooms, it had one lone lightbulb hanging lifelessly by a wire from the ceiling over my head (I

guess I had forgotten to switch it off that morning, because it was still giving off a dying glow), which spilled waning light

across my dresser, desk, bed, night table, and vanity mirror scattered around me, including the various stuffed animals,

books, and other items thrown messily across the floor. I hated my room - in comparison to what I had seen in my other

friends’ rooms, mine looked like something out of a horror movie, where maybe the bride of Frankenstien would go to

take a snooze. Even though I had tried so many times to add pictures to the walls, or more light, or even the smell of

perfume to the chamber, nothing helped - every time I looked again, it was if nothing had changed, and like any moment a

werewolf could leap out from beneath my bed.

Finally exhaling the fiery coughs that had burning in my throat the entire journey, I shifted myself over into a

sitting position (even though my feet still dangled into the opening in the floor) and began to wipe myself off, spraying

dust into the air, combing spiderwebs out of my hair. My eyes were still inflamed from their sudden exposure to light,

and I had to squint to see through the dark shadows they now projected before me. A sudden quiet, shaky knock at my

closed door caused me to inhale a startled gasp (filled with dust), pull my feet out of the opening, slide the loose floorboard

back into place over it, and throw the edge of my carpet back on top. I quickly scrambled to my feet, sat hastily atop my

bed, grabbed a book off my night table and tried to look like I was reading before I replied, “What?”

The door opened a crack, revealing the large, hazel eyes of my younger brother Matthew. All that was visible

through the small opening were his eyes, his nose, and a strip of his buzzed, dark blond hair.

“What??” I questioned again, attempting to appear impatient, as if he had disturbed me from reading (even

though the book I held was upside-down). “What’s the matter, Matthew, I’m busy.”

He opened the door completely now and stepped inside, wringing his hands nervously. I guess he had just

gotten home from school (he was still in elementary school), because his cheeks were slightly flushed from cold and he

still had his backpack straps over both his shoulders. Matthew is outrageously tall for his age, since he is about two or

three years younger than me and can still look me in the eyes, and has bright brown eyes and hair that is shaved short all

over, like it had just been plowed by a lawnmower. He looked unusually pudgy in his thick winter jacket.

“...N...Nikka...” he stammered apprehensively, gazing down at his feet. “...I...I just saw Jared, an’....an’ he told me to be

careful not to be attacked by any birds......I’m scared, Nikka, I saw that in a movie once - !!”

“...Ooh, what a jerk he is!!” I snapped angrily, standing up and accidentally dropping my book to the floor.

“How can he....why is he....I’ll kick his butt, I swear I will...!!” I looked back over at Matthew, who was staring back at

me through wide eyes on the brink of tears, then exhaled a sigh. “...Don’t worry, Matthew, Jared’s being stupid,” I

assured him, sitting back down. “Don’t listen to him.”

“...N...no, I think he was serious!!” Matthew exclaimed fearfully. “He...he even told me to ask you, cuz he said

you knew more about it - ”

“That stupid, lousy no-good - !!!” I stopped when I noticed Matthew truly was about to cry, then walked over to

him and helped him slide his backpack off his shoulders. “I said don’t worry, Matthew. There aren’t any birds around

here now. They all flew south for the winter, you learned that in school, didn’t you?” When he answered with a shaky

nod, I continued, “So don’t listen to Jared. He’s just being mean. Why don’t you go back downstairs and start your

homework, OK?? And don’t think anymore about stupid Jared and his stupid birds.”

Matthew wiped his nose on his sleeve, then nodded a second time. “...All....all right...” He gave me a weary

smile, then slowly turned in place and started shuffling back out into the hallway. I headed back towards my bed and sat

down, then slapped myself in the forehead with a furious, “Darn it!!”

“What????” Matthew cried fearfully, immediately whirling about and dashing back into my room. “What is it,

Nikka, what is it????”

“I can’t believe this!!” I groaned angrily. “I left all of my schoolbooks downstairs!!”

I was jostled roughly awake, causing my eyes to snap open and my body to jerk unintentionally in place.

Although my bloodstream was still flowing with the unusual tingle of surprise that turned my fingers numb, I drew in a

long, weary yawn and shifted myself over onto my back, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. The bedroom

around me had turned noticeably unfamiliar in the dark, with the eerie black shapes of furniture looming ominously

around me, and one exhausted glance over at my digital clock, glowing an ghostly phosphorescent green in the

murkiness, told me it had to be close to about three o’ clock in the morning. I was sprawled lazily in my bed, with one

leg dangling over the side of the mattress and the other tangled clumsily in the sheets, and digging deep into my

subconscious, I managed to recall the memory of saying good night to my family and going to bed probably close to six or

seven hours earlier. In that case, what had woken me up?

I froze as my question was abruptly answered: a sudden loud noise, though slightly muffled, echoed in the still

room about me, then stopped. I remained motionless for a moment, listening intently; the sound had come and gone so

unexpectedly that I hadn’t really gotten a chance to figure out what it was or where it was coming from.

Several seconds of silence passed, and I had almost convinced myself that my blurry mind had dreamed the

noise when suddenly it rang out again. I caught it this time: it was a clamorous banging noise, and it sounded like wood.

It almost sounded like someone was trying to rip open a locked door. I still couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

I was scared now. Was it coming from my room? Had someone broken into the house and was now searching

through my belongings? Would he attack me if he found out I was awake?

I paused again as the sound stopped, and sure enough I only had to wait a second or two before I heard it again

(they seemed to be happening more frequently now, every few moments). I sat up slightly, listening closely. It wasn’t

coming from my room. It sounded like it was actually ringing out from over my head, on the floor above me.

The attic? Was someone in the attic?

Keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling overhead, I slowly shifted my legs over the side of the mattress, then

slowly got to my feet. I ran over the situation in my mind, trying to decide what to do. I don’t know how or why I

came to the conclusion that I did (a mixture of fear and exhaustion, I guess), but the next thing I knew I crept over to

my bedroom door, creaked it open, and slipped out into the silent hallway.

The sounds continued even as I snuck down the corridor, and as I passed by the closed doors leading into my

family’s rooms I had no idea how they possibly could have continued sleeping. The rotted floorboards let out shrill

squeaks as I continued forward, but I doubted that such a quiet noise could wake the rest of the house while they were

contentedly snoozing through loud, threatening bangs overhead.

I finally reached the end of the dark hallway, and as I glanced up I could see the murky form of the trapdoor

embedded in the ceiling. I had to stand on my tiptoes, but I managed to grab the rope hanging weakly at the top and pull

downwards, slowly lowering the folding staircase to the floor. Now I could definitely hear the noise piercing through the

darkness, louder than ever before since the barrier between us had been removed, and as I shakily placed my foot on the

bottom step I could picture in my mind the terrifying silhouette of an escaped convict pulling violently on a sealed closet,

just waiting for me to appear.

I never remembered that staircase being so long, or my heart pounding so loud. I slowly climbed up each stair,

locking my eyes on the foreboding opening in the ceiling drawing sluggishly but steadily closer. My breaths were so

deafening, panting in and out of my lips and quivering slightly with each inhalation, and my feet against the steps had

seemingly gone numb without any trace of feeling. An odd ringing had began in my ears, confusing my mind and

magnifying the tumultuous slamming sounds (that now seemed to have ceased pausing) growing progressively louder as I

climbed higher.

I now stood unsteadily on the third to last step. The next one would cause my head to rise up into the opening.

I froze for a moment, my icy hands (which seemed to have lost a lot of their feeling as well) slowly tightening

into fists. The pounding in the attic continued, deafeningly loud but seemingly muffled through the blood pulsing in my

ears and the loud heaviness of my breath. For a moment I thought I wouldn’t be able to move, and then, with a sudden

surge of adrenaline shooting through my veins, I hastily slammed my foot down onto the next stair and rapidly stepped

upwards. My head was now in the attic.

Even though I knew I had a clear view of the attic now that my head had passed through the opening, my eyes

seemed to have glued themselves shut. No matter how hard I tried, I could not force my lids apart. As a matter of fact,

my entire body seemed beyond my control, riveted helplessly down onto the step, frozen in a tight, rigid position atop my

deadened feet. I couldn’t seem to move out of my defenseless pose on the staircase.

It took me several moments to realize that the sound had stopped.

I hesitated for a moment, holding my breath so I could hear more clearly. The banging noise had stopped

completely, as soon as my head had risen into the attic, and not even an echo remained behind. I ripped my eyelids apart,

revealing the dark room before me, silent and untouched. I released the breath I had been holding, opened my tight fists

(which had blocked the blood from flowing into my fingers), and easily climbed the last two steps of the staircase,

entering the attic.

Like the rest of the rooms in the house, the attic was by far the oddest one I had ever seen. It was tall and

expansive, but it certainly didn’t look like it, since most of the open space had been crowded full with unwanted items

and forgotten belongings. At the moment the entire room had become filled with a thick, murky blackness, with the

exception of the pale glow coming from the window on the far left wall projecting a small, circular patch of light on the

floorboards, and the forms of overlooked articles loomed in unfamiliar shapes around me. The air was teaming with the

common stench of wood and dust, but there was also a new, constant scent as well, a sour, rancid odor that no one had

ever been able to identify or get rid of. In addition, the attic, strangely enough, was the only room in the entire house

whose walls were covered in an ancient, yellowing wallpaper. We usually didn’t come up into the attic.

I slid one step forward, leaving smeared footprints in the grime settled on the floor, and bent my body slightly to

the right, trying to see past the dark piles of objects collected to either side. Something brushed lightly against my face,

and with a startled jump I grabbed hold of it and realized that it was only the tassel hanging down from the single

lightbulb in the rafters. I gave it one sharp tug, and immediately the room was filled with a dim golden light, slightly

blurred because of the dust streaming through the air. The piles of junk before me were now visible and familiar, heaped

up into two piles against the walls with only a narrow pathway of cleared floorboards between them.

I stepped forward again, then continued, gradually making my way between the two masses, towards the back

wall of the attic. It was much darker here, since most of the light coming from the lightbulb had been blocked out by the

huge heaps stretching up to only a few inches below the ceiling, but it was still bright enough for me to keep walking

forward.

Now I could see the form of the far wall in front of me, blackened in the shadows of the piles, and running over

the setup of my house in my head I could tell that this was the section positioned right over my room. I noticed a few

items had fallen loose of the heaps here, sprawled messily across the floor, and that the wallpaper covering that one part

of the wall seemed to be slightly more ripped and worn than the rest, but I guess that was just my overactive

imagination, because everything seemed untouched and normal. I exhaled another sigh of relief, wiping my forehead on

my sleeve, and turned to head back towards the trapdoor.

The lightbulb suddenly dimmed significantly, and, with a sudden quiet hissing noise, died completely. I was

plunged into total darkness. I breathed in a soft, accidental gasp and staggered several steps backwards. The sudden rush

of blackness (which was much thicker than before because the port window was blocked from view) had not given my

eyes sufficient time to adjust, and I now found myself trapped helplessly and blindly in place, surrounded by the ominous

forms of the heaps on both sides. I shakily gazed about me, quivering slightly and panting again, then slowly shuffled

another few steps back. I had to get out.

A sudden ear-piercing screech came from above me, and without warning a dark shape dove down at me from

the top of the pile to my right. I let out a terrified scream and stumbled backwards, tossing my arms protectively over

my head. The form let out another blaring shriek and swooped upwards again, then ricocheted itself scratchily off the

wall and fired itself towards the top of the heap to my left. It didn’t quite make it; I let out another loud squeal as the

mass collapsed with a deafening peal, sending a weighty avalanche of heavy garbage cascading down on top of me and

throwing me viciously down onto my stomach. In a sudden struggle I shoved aside the objects covering me and stared

after the shape, which was now flying impartially towards the port window (which was back in view due to the pile’s

collapse). I saw the pale gleam of moonlight off of black feathers.

I felt my eyes go wide in shock; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “.....A....a blackbird?!”

The raven let out a throaty squawk, throwing itself against the wall beside the window. It began to hover

awkwardly in the air, its flapping wings sending feathers streaming through the darkness, and then (my jaw almost

dropped to the floor) it flung open the latch with its beak, threw open the window, and soared back out into the night.

I remained motionless in place, collapsed on the floor covered in junk, gaping vacantly out after it. I think I was

in shock. “......Who...what...how.......No....No, that did not just happen....”

There was another quiet hissing noise, and gradually the lightbulb over head began to flicker and glow again,

spilling light over my confused, clumsy body sprawled out beneath the pile of garbage. I blinked several times, gazing up

at it, then sluggishly shuffled to my feet, causing the objects still covering my pajamas to fall dully to the floor. I rubbed at

my eyes several times, then looked back at the window. It was swaying lightly on its hinges, emitting quiet squeaks,

and admitting a soft rush of wind that caused a cloud of dust to waft into the air. “......That was completely impossible...” I

told myself, giving my shoulder a hard pinch. “....I....I’m tired, that’s all....Completely exhausted, and now I’m seeing

things. Or maybe I’m sleepwalking. Who could blame me about having a nightmare about blackbirds after what

happened today?....And then I must’ve accidentally knocked the pile over. See, there. That makes sense now. A

blackbird has not been stalking me for hours, and it definitely did not just open the window and fly away.” However, the

pangs and stabs of fear and disbelief flowing through my body didn’t seem to lessen at all.

I dusted myself off, still dumbly repeating my stupid explanation. “....And the knocking must’ve been a tree

branch against the house or something....and that retarded lightbulb is always flickering on and off....Yeah, and the

window must’ve been blown open by the - ” I stopped as my vision fell to the faar wall before me.

I hesitated for a moment, then took several gradual steps towards it. I could see the grimy wallpaper that still

covered it, and there, those rips were where the crow’s talons had scratched against it (but that hadn’t actually

happened)....but then what was that?

I bent closer, squinting against the dim lighting, and slowly ran my fingers over the rips the raven’s claws had

made (in my dream, of course). There was something under it. There was something written on the wall beneath the

wallpaper.

With shaking hands I gradually slipped my fingers into the tears in the wallpaper, hesitated, then closed my eyes

and tore downwards with all my might. The wallpaper ripped free, fluttering down lightly while still clenched in my

sweaty palm, and attempting to ignore my quivering insides, I opened one eye a crack.

I had only torn away a small section of the wallpaper, but there definitely was something written there.

Overcome with curiosity more than fear, I grabbed hold of the torn edge and ripped it away again, revealing more of the

message. I had to tear away almost half the wall’s wallpaper, but the entire message had finally come into view. It was

written in a scarlet ink and smeared messily over the bare wall, as if someone had dunked their hand in paint and

hurriedly wiped the words onto the wood. The sentences were also surrounded and interrupted by innumerable

characters that I couldn’t read and couldn’t even recognize as a language, but the actual message was relatively easy to

discern:

I reread the message several times, struggling to understand it through the hundreds of unusual, archaic-looking

symbols that were scattered around and throughout it. Questions piled up through my head, as I gaped blankly up at the

wall: What did this mean? Why was it hidden beneath the wallpaper? What were all those strange characters? And

what in the world was “The Eye of the Blind”?

Then I noticed: the unusual emblems I couldn’t read were scattered randomly about the wall, except beneath

the message, where they seemed to form a reasonably organized upside-down triangle shape pointing to the floor at the

base of the wall.

There?? Was something on the floor??

I slowly bent to my knees, falling into a kneeling position in front of the wall, and ran over the arrow-looking

shape with my eyes. It was definitely pointing to the floor.

I shakily reached forward, towards where the shape was pointing, then slowly dusted away the grime lying

over the floorboards. My hand struck something, and there was a metallic clang. I drew back with a startled gasp, then

gradually bent forward again. There, amongst the smears of wood where I had managed to clear away the dust, was a

rather small brass ring, about the size of a half dollar, bolted on one of its sides to the floor. I stared woodenly down at it

for a second or two, then sluggishly slid my pointer finger into it and gave it one vicious tug upwards. It didn’t budge. I

tried again, harder this time. There was a loud, rusted squeal, and I let out a gasp as a square of wood beneath the ring,

about three inches high and wide, swung upwards on unseen hinges, revealing a small, boxy compartment in the floor.

I froze for a second, unsure of what to do, then pulled my finger free of the ring and placed the door it was

attached to lightly down onto the floor and gazed tentatively into the hidden compartment. It was the same size as the

square I had pulled from atop it, but it also looked about five or so inches deep, with its sides completely covered with the

same unusual markings that covered the wall. I could sense a strong, sulfuric odor that seemed to be rising out of it, and

when I tossed my head aside to block out the overwhelming stench I caught a golden gleam come from the shadowy

bottom of the box.

I gradually turned back about to face it, now covering my mouth with my hand to stifle the smell, and gazed

back into the compartment. I saw it again, another small flash of gold coming from the bottom. Something was down

there.

I hesitated, picturing a vicious, rat-like monster biting off my fingers as soon as I reached inside, but I finally

decided to ignore the thought and slowly lowered my hand in. My fingertips struck the bottom almost immediately (it

really was as shallow as I had first guessed), and suddenly I could feel a cold, metallic object against my palm. I froze,

then closed my hand in around it and pulled it up, and as my arm came back into view I saw a silvery chain dangling

through the air behind it. Instantly I opened my palm and revealed an unusual pendant resting on my skin.

I had never seen such an peculiar necklace - it was relatively simple, with a amulet hanging from the chain, but

it was very exotic-looking. The talisman was composed of narrow bands of gold that had been bent into the shape of a

wide, hollow ellipse, with a captivating scarlet gem inside it and several teardrop-shaped charms hanging from the bottom.

Around it were strings of strong-smelling rosemary beads. I gazed vacantly down at the pendant in my hands, studying

the beautiful red jewel in the center. I could see my complexion reflected back at me and how its crimson surface

misted with every breath. On the back I could feel what felt like a series of engravings chiseled into the bottom curve of

the ellipse, but after reading them with my fingers, I had a feeling it was a line of the same unrecognizable symbols from

the wall.

I must have remained in my kneeling position on the floor with the necklace in my hands for at least fifteen

minutes. I’m not quite sure what was so fascinating about it. All I know is that it took a lot of strength for me to

untangle the rosemary beads from its chain, drop them back into the compartment, and slowly slide the hidden cover

back over the opening before casting one glance back at the passage on the wall and heading back towards the trapdoor

behind me.

Back to Fanfiction Page

Back to Main Page