English Original
We moved into our new house. The house had cathedral ceilings, and the only attic space was in the adjoining wall from my son’s room, above the kitchen. It was about twelve feet long, with its highest point about five feet, tapering down from the angle of the roof.
The first odd thing I noticed was that it had been nailed shut—not just with a few nails, but about twelve long, ominous ones. The former occupant was either attempting to stop someone from getting in… or out.
The house is in a very nice neighborhood. However, on the third night, we first heard something out of sorts: a scratching noise above the kitchen. I told my family we must have a trapped animal, perhaps a rat. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, my imagination kept considering a far more sinister prospect. I knew I had to investigate.
That Saturday, my wife went shopping, leaving my son Jonathan and me to tackle a list of chores. At the top was investigating the attic. It was the last task I completed that day. Finally, I could no longer procrastinate. I retrieved my toolbox from the garage, and with Jonathan eagerly at my heel and our dog Tasha by my side, we slowly marched upstairs.
We went into Jonathan's room to the corner where a wood panel was nailed into place. The roof angle continued there, so the space outside the panel was only about five feet high. I sighed, set my toolbox down, and banged my head in the process, which entertained my son but irritated me further.
I pulled out my hammer and, with much effort, eventually pulled out the first nail. It was six inches long. Strangely, after that first nail came out, Tasha started whining and licking my hand. She became such a distraction that I had to ask Jonathan to take her downstairs.
It must have taken three-quarters of an hour to get the first eleven nails out. It was a warm afternoon, and sweat dripped down my forehead, burning my eyes. As I was drying my eyes, I thought I heard something from inside the space—a slight rustling noise. This could only mean one thing: something was moving in there, just a few feet from where I sat. The look on my son’s face transformed from boredom to slight fear. Perhaps he sensed my unease, or maybe he also felt that things were not quite right. I considered simply nailing the board back… but part of me couldn't. I simply had to know.
So I took a deep breath and worked on the last nail. As it slipped from its place—obviously situated there for years—the board came free. The first thing we became aware of was the smell… it reminded me of rotting meat. As there were no lights, I sent Jonathan to retrieve the most powerful flashlight from the garage. He raced down with the exuberance of a ten-year-old and was back moments later.
Jonathan looked at me. I looked at Jonathan.
"Well," he said, "are you going in or not?"
Now, surely I could not disappoint the only person who considered me afraid of nothing? I edged into the space and fired up the flashlight… I was completely taken aback by the sight and quickly exited. I had noticed three things: a baby’s rattle, an old-fashioned teddy bear, and what looked to be a baby…
As I re-entered the attic with a more rational mind, I discovered what had appeared to be a baby was, in fact, a doll. I sent Jonathan to get my camera, and we took a photograph. I chuckled to myself at how my mind had twisted the situation. We left the panel unnailed, just resting against the gaping hole, and continued with our day.
We did not think much more of it until that evening while watching television; we once more heard the noise. But this time it was significantly louder.
The next morning, I once again stuck my head into the attic, and this time I almost screamed… not from what I saw, but from what I did not see. The doll had vanished.
I quickly nailed up the panel again. And to this day, I have never again ventured inside our attic. And yes, on occasion, we still do hear strange noises coming from that space.
Was it really just my imagination?
I am not so very sure… I suspect that my attic might hold a sordid past.
中文翻译
我们搬进了新家。房子有着教堂式的尖顶天花板，唯一的阁楼空间位于厨房上方，与我儿子房间的墙壁相邻。它大约十二英尺长，最高点约五英尺，然后顺着屋顶的角度逐渐变窄。
我注意到的第一件怪事是它被钉死了——不是用几颗小钉子，而是大约十二根又长又不祥的钉子。前任房主要么是想阻止什么东西进去……要么是想阻止什么东西出来。
房子所在的社区非常宜人。然而，在搬进来的第三天晚上，我们第一次听到了异样的声音：厨房上方传来抓挠声。我告诉家人，阁楼里肯定困住了什么动物，也许是只老鼠。但出于某种无法解释的原因，我的想象力总在考虑一种更险恶的可能性。我知道我必须去查看一下。
那个星期六，我妻子去购物了，留下我和儿子乔纳森处理一堆家务。清单上的首要任务就是检查阁楼。这是我那天完成的最后一项任务。最终，我不能再拖延了。我从车库取来工具箱，乔纳森热切地跟在我身后，我们的狗塔莎也像往常一样在我身边，我们缓缓走上楼。
我们走进乔纳森的房间，来到一个木制嵌板被钉死的角落。屋顶的倾斜角度在此处延续，所以嵌板外的空间只有大约五英尺高。我叹了口气，放下工具箱，过程中还撞到了头，这逗乐了我儿子，却让我更加恼火。
我拿出锤子，费了很大劲，终于拔出了第一颗钉子。它有六英寸长。奇怪的是，第一颗钉子拔出后，塔莎开始呜咽并舔我的手。它让我分心不已，我只好让乔纳森带它下楼。
拔出前十一颗钉子大概花了四十五分钟。那是个温暖的下午，咸涩的汗水从我的额头滴下，刺痛了我的眼睛。正当我擦眼睛时，我觉得听到了空间里传来一阵轻微的沙沙声。这只意味着一件事：里面有东西在动，离我坐的地方只有几英尺远。我儿子脸上的表情从无聊变成了轻微的恐惧。也许他感应到了我的不安，或者他也觉得事情不太对劲。我考虑过直接把木板钉回去……但我内心的一部分不允许我这么做。我必须知道真相。
于是，我深吸一口气，开始对付最后一颗钉子。当它从显然已固定多年的位置滑出时，木板松开了。我们首先意识到的是气味……它让我想起了腐烂的肉味。由于里面没有灯，我让乔纳森去车库拿我最亮的手电筒。他以一个十岁孩子的热情冲下楼，片刻之后就回来了。
乔纳森看着我。我看着乔纳森。
“那么，”他说，“你到底进不进去？”
此刻，我怎能让我唯一认为我无所畏惧的人失望呢？我侧身挤进那个空间，打开手电筒……眼前的景象让我大吃一惊，我迅速退了出来。我注意到了三样东西：一个婴儿拨浪鼓、一只老式泰迪熊，还有一个看起来像是婴儿的东西……
当我以更理性的心态再次进入阁楼时，我发现那个看起来像婴儿的东西其实是个洋娃娃。我让乔纳森去拿我的相机，我们拍了张照片。我暗自嘲笑自己把事情想得那么复杂。我们没有把嵌板钉回去，只是让它虚掩在洞口，然后继续度过了那一天。
我们没再多想，直到那天晚上看电视时，我们又听到了那个声音。但这次声音明显大得多。
第二天早上，我再次把头探进阁楼，这次我几乎尖叫出来……不是因为看到了什么，而是因为没看到什么。那个洋娃娃不见了。
我迅速重新钉好了嵌板。直到今天，我再也没有冒险进入过我们的阁楼。而且，是的，偶尔我们仍然能听到从那个空间传来的奇怪声响。
那真的只是我的想象吗？
我不太确定……我怀疑我的阁楼可能隐藏着一段不光彩的过去。