The Phantom in the Attic

The Phantom in the Attic

I climbed the stairs slowly,

the boards groaning under my weight,

and the attic breathed quietly,

pressing shadows against the ceiling.

A lantern flickered,

its light bending around corners,

and I felt eyes

watching from places unseen.

Boxes whispered softly,

folding secrets into the dust,

and I shivered

as cobwebs brushed my face.

The ghost moved gently,

its form half in shadow,

and I realized

it remembered every story I had told.

Even the floor leaned in,

pressing the weight of history,

and I felt

my own pulse echo in the attic.

I spoke aloud,

and it answered

with whispers of forgotten words,

folded into the air.

When I left,

the attic sighed,

and I knew

it would wait for the next visitor.