re: Something in the attic - any suggestions?

Well I think it succeeded in entertainment value but did the OP get his villian

I got to the point I heard everything and shite was flipped all around and a lot of scratch marks. I see a hole behind the flood lights on the front corner of the house where the electrical line feeds into the lights from the attic. Need to repair that.

I have a trapper coming by tomorrow and shits gonna get real. The wife is scared to open cabinets without me around.

Continued...


Grumbling, Fred entered the garage and looked around for a flashlight and something to put pain to whatever was in the attic. He grabbed a 5-iron from his golf bag and an 8 inch maglite from the shelf.
The shuffling in the attic reached his ears once more, and he cursed under his breath. He could still smell the stale whiskey, and wished then he had taken another drink to steel his nerves. He turned the garage light on and made his way through the mostly darkened house, stopping at the wet bar to take a pull from a half empty bottle of brown liquor, an appreciative grimace forming on his lips as it burned his throat, then a spreading warmth as it hit his belly.

He paused, listening to the sounds from above again, then stepped outside into the brisk night chill to see how the hell something that sounded so large could have gotten into his attic.
He walked around the house, the dew making his footsteps sound wet. The yellow beam of the flashlight illuminated gutters and eaves, showing no sign of holes, until he reached the side of the house. Sweeping his light in the arc of the roof until it came to rest upon the spot where the cable and electrical wires went into the attic, he saw it. A hole maybe 6 inches in diameter where the polymer had worn away. "Great", Fred muttered, "really Great Stuff." He silently laughed at his own bad joke when all of a sudden his ears were pierced with a horrid screeching sound coming from the attic. An awful din that reminded him of a choir of mangled cats scraping forks and knives on metal trays. Then the rumble again. Then silence.
Unsettled by that terrible sound screaming in his recent memory, he considered calling a professional to take care of whatever lurked up there. Then he brushed back his brief moment of fear and steeled himself once more. "What am I, a frightened little girl?", he thought, "I'm not letting some damn rodent run me off. Besides, Carla would never let me live it down." Even worse, Fred knew how the womenfolk liked to chat, and he didn't feel like being the butt of jokes from the neighborhood gentry. A nickname like "Fraidy Fred" would drive him up the wall. Club and flashlight in a knuckle white grip, he re-entered the garage with a grim resolve to handle this on his own, man versus beast. After all, it couldn't be that bad, just some damn pest.

He heard the footfalls and tumbling again as he pulled down the stairs to the attic with a clattering, bits of dust and insulation coming with it in the dark, looking like pink snow in the flashlight beam. He tucked the club beneath his arm as he slowly ascended, scanning this way and that with the little circle of yellow. Finally he reached the top, and peered into the almost darkness of the attic. Insulation and rafters and boxes, but no beady little eyes yet. He grabbed the pull cord for the light, and for a brief second the attic was illuminated before the light brightened and then darkened with an audible "Pop!", scaring the hell out of Fred.
"shite", he cursed, "just my luck."
He contemplated going to get another bulb from the garage before remembering that he had used the last one in a lamp yesterday. Sighing, he froze when he heard the rumble and that blood-curdling screech again, this time coming from the far end of the attic. He shined his light in that direction, but the odd angles and pitches of the roof revealed nothing. He resigned himself to heading that way with trepidacious steps, balancing on the rafters and the small boards he had placed up here when they bought the house.
Kicking past Christmas decorations and using his club for balance, he made his way through the cardboard labyrinth, shining his light at every new shadow, revealing odds and ends, things he made a mental note to get rid of after this was all over.

He turned right, and almost screamed when a pink face with big black eyes was illuminated by his flashlight. He quickly recovered his composure after recognizing the smiling visage of the hard plastic Santa that went in his yard every Christmas. "frick you Chris Kringle." He whispered.
Then from the back he heard it again, louder this time, that shuffling on sheetrock. It was very close now, and he raised his club, walking carefully on the exposed rafters, ready to strike.
All of a sudden he saw it out the corner of his eye, a tuft of brown fur, half buried in insulation. He shined his light at the shuddering shape and peered closer.

It looked to be about the size of a house cat, but with a long pink tail. The thing was tangled in some string, and when it jostled again he could make out beady black eyes and a row of crooked brown teeth in an elongated maw. "Just some sort of overgrown rat." He thought as he raised his club. "Poor thing's probably scared to death."
He brought the club down 5 times. Each sickening, wet crunch of metal against flesh was accompanied by agonized screeching from the thing, piercing his ears and making him queasy. The spattering blood from his assault didn't help matters.

swish...the club singing through the air.
Flump...the metal head sinking sickeningly sweet into the animals flesh.
Screeeeeeeeee!...the tortured last screams of the struggling creature.

Swish. Flump. Scree.
Swish. Flump. Scree.
Swish. Flump. Scree.

Swish.

Flump.

Screeeeeeeee.

The thing stopped shuddering and making noise with the final blow.
Fred reached at his feet to grab an old towel to grab the beast with, but when he reached for it, he heard another sound...one he hadn't heard before.

This sound was low, almost inaudible. But all of a sudden Fred felt fear. Real fear. It was breathing...and not his own, coming from behind him, in a dark corner.
Shaking, he slowly brought the flashlight around, until it stopped on something horrible.
Two huge black eyes, like pools of midnight doused in an otherworldly sheen. A horrific grin of shattered teeth. Pale, white skin, wet with blood.

Fred's bladder let go, a dark stain forming on his trousers, running down his leg and making a piddling noise as it dropped off his shoe and onto the ceiling.
His lips quivered wordlessly as a scram wouldn't come.
The flashlight flickered once, twice, and then went black.
The last thing he saw was a grin form on the thing in the attic's face. A grin of pure evil.
Then the light was gone.


shuffle.

Flump.




Scree.

Jesus dude.

Did you write that? Who the frick is going to read that?

quote:

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I have a trapper coming by tomorrow and shits gonna get real.

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Make sure the beer is cold and that you have a nice comfy chair to sit in to watch the show.

Having an in-game thread on here would be real nice too.

quote:

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Holy shite...what was it behind him?

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It was the thing in the attic. Duh.

Best fricking post ever! I'm a bit confused as I just checked in to see what was in the attic but whatever

shite dude. I was just about to go to sleep.

Update? What was it?

You could have updated this before posting an upton thread brah.