Fuzzy-Monster Green

I COULDN’T SLEEP. THE SYCAMORE scratched at the glass, and the house settled with strange cracks and pops. It was only ten o’clock, but everyone was in bed, and the sound of snoring added to the sounds of the mellowing house. I kicked the covers one way, then the next. My legs twitched restlessly and I tensed my body and relaxed it, hoping it would help me sleep. It didn’t. I thought of Bella and the teardrop glass piece. I tossed off the covers and put on my fuzzy-monster-green slippers. I decided to find the attic.

Since nearly everything was still taped up tight in boxes, I couldn’t find my flashlight, so I decided to just try to see by moonlight. I realized it was a dumb idea when I banged right into my closed bedroom door.

The staircase to the downstairs was beautiful polished dark wood—like it had been designed to be seen. The one to the attic was narrow, plain and tucked out of the way—like it had been designed to be hidden. I felt my way up the stairs and opened the door at the top.

The attic sprawled into one enormous room that covered the entire story. It smelled like old. I hoped there weren’t any spiders. I hated spiders. The room was too dark to see many details, but I did find four small windows—each pitched to a little gable on each side of the room. The glass in each window flowed and rippled and made the outside look kind of wavy. Gables were pointed like little triangles over each window. The roof ridge was the high point of the room, and the rest of the room sloped down from there.

The window to the south looked over the front yard like my bedroom window. The one to the west looked over neighbors’ houses, and I could see Grandma Brooks’ house—or at least her roof. From the window on the east I could look right into Bella’s house, which was just as dark as ours. To the north, I saw the backyard and blackness.

I pulled up a wooden crate and placed it in front of the north window. I sat down and squinted to try to see anything at all. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to make out vague shapes. Over the houses behind ours, I saw the outlines of gravestones. Nighttime made them almost invisible, and if I hadn’t known what I was looking for, I’d probably have missed them entirely.

I heard little, tiny ticking and popping sounds that I was sure I’d never be able to hear in the daytime. Suddenly, the hair on my arms rose and prickled. The night felt almost heavy and solid, like an actual presence. The darkness wrapped around me like fingers, getting tighter and tighter. I wanted to turn away and run back to my bed, but something made me want to look harder out the window and see if the ghosts were real. At that moment, it felt absolutely possible.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest. The thumping seemed so loud, I was sure it would wake everyone in the house. Gripping the box underneath me, my fingernails dug into the rough wood. A large splinter jammed itself under my nail and I jumped. I crammed the stinging finger into my mouth and tasted blood. It was too dark to see the blood or the splinter.

I looked over to the window facing Bella’s house and jumped so high, I tumbled off the box. Bella stood at her attic window, holding a candle and looking directly at me. I gasped and tried to orient myself in the dark. My chest was so tight, I had to grab for breath trying to find which way was up in the thick blackness. Stumbling across the floor and darting down the stairs, I returned to my room. I shut the curtains and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up over my head, and stayed like that the whole night.