Creaky House III

Something was scratching at the back of Uncle Ned Creaky’s brain. It was that little thought in the back of one’s mind that grabs hold of your ability to stay focused.

This little thought grabbed Uncle Ned by the scruff of the neck and pulled him from his duties in the cemetery. It then ran him through the front door of the old Creaky house.

Up the stairs he was hauled. Like a man on a mission.

“Now, what was it I’m supposed to be doing here?” said Uncle Ned.

He stood in Greta’s bedroom with a rake in one hand and his straw hat in the other.

“It’s the damndest thing,” he said. “One minute I have a purpose, the next minute I’m a fickle minded old fool. But there’s definitely something wrong in here.”

Emma, the housekeeper, was going about her business when she noticed Uncle Ned pondering his purpose in the doorway.

“What are you doing in Greta’s room?” said Emma.
“If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t exactly know, Emma,” said Uncle Ned. “I was getting ready to clean up the cemetery when I found myself needing to be up here. Old age, I guess.”

“Yeah,” said Emma. “A lot of that going on lately. Yesterday I spent ten minutes looking for the damn cat.”

“We don’t have a cat,” said Uncle Ned.

“Exactly,” said Emma. “Old age. It’s spreading.”

“I suppose so,” said Uncle Ned. “Say, Emma, wasn’t there a trunk in this room?”

“Yeah,” said Emma. “It belonged to Great Aunt Greta. The poor little thing. She died in this room, you know.”

“Yes, Emma,” said Uncle Ned. “I know. I live here. I know the whole story. What happened to the trunk?”

“Your wife had the boys haul it up to the attic years ago,” said Emma. “Right after little Greta was born.”

“Doesn’t matter, I guess,” said Uncle Ned. “It seems to be what I was looking for, though. Maybe I’ll go up and have a look.”

“I’d be careful, if I were you,” said Emma.
“There’s an awful mess up there. Don’t get lost.”

“I’ll be careful Emma,” said Uncle Ned. “I’m just gonna have a quick look or It’ll be nagging at me all day.”

Emma stepped back into the hallway and grabbed hold of the attic hatch rope.

“Careful, Emma,” said Uncle Ned. “You never know what’s stalking around up there. Wouldn’t want any vermin falling on your head.”

“Vermin I can handle,” said Emma. “It’s your nutty relations I have a problem with.”

“Oh, let’s not get into that right now, Emma,” said Uncle Ned. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Emma pulled down the hatch door and unfolded the ladder.

“It’s all yours, Ned,” said Emma. “But I’d put your hat on, if I were you. All sorts of creepy, crawly things hanging about up there.”

“Will do, Emma,” said Uncle Ned.

With that Uncle Ned made his way up the attic steps.

“Flip on the attic light, Emma,” said Uncle Ned.

When the lights came on Uncle Ned stepped into the attic and made a startling discovery.

“Well ain’t that the damndest thing!” said Uncle Ned.

“What going on up there!” said Emma. “You’ve scared me half to death!”

“It looks like we got company,” said Uncle Ned.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”