A sigh escaped from Corbin’s lips as he glanced up towards the ceiling in his bedroom. The drip. It was back. He’d fixed it twice already and yet there it was again, just like the last time. Where it was coming from he had no idea. There were no pipes in the ceiling above his bedroom. There was no room up there. Just the attic, which he’d been inside several times trying to determine just where the water was coming from. Throwing back the covers Corbin rose from the bed. It was going to be another sleepless night, which inevitably was always followed by a very long day. After pulling on his robe he grabbed the flashlight from the nightstand and padded down the hall. It would be another fruitless trip up to the attic but he’d never get peace of mind unless he at least checked. And like every other night this week he found nothing in the attic but a few boxes left from his move and the cobwebs that had probably been there for decades.

He’s coming. I know he’s coming. From down the hall I can already hear his footsteps. My heart starts thundering in my chest so hard that soon it drowns out his steps creaking on the stairs and I can no longer tell the exact moment of when he’s going to open the door. With my adrenaline rushing so hard you’d think I could jump into action but I just stand here. My eyes fixated on the doorknob, just waiting for it to turn. He’s coming. I know he’s coming.

The clock in the living room chimed and woke Corbin from his sleep on the couch. With an exaggerated Groan he sat up and looked at his watch. Just past six. He’d laid down over an hour ago to catch up on a little reading and he’d fallen asleep.

“Shit.” He muttered to himself as he stood up and padded around the coffee table and out of the room. The whole point of moving to this house, to this big quiet house in the middle of nowhere, was so that he could get some writing done. So far he’d worked on the house, talked to every plumber known to man on the phone, and slept fitfully at random intervals during the day. He had to write and he had to do it today. Once he got to the office he took up a seat, cracked his knuckles and opened the black lap top that lay resting on the desk. Corbin pulled up a word document and sat there a moment, just staring at the cursor. It was only when he brought his hands up to begin typing that a drop of water plummeted from the ceiling and splashed against the keyboard. Calmly as possible Corbin pushed his computer back out of the way of the drip and then inclined his head. It was directly above his bedroom. Probably directly above the drip that was in the ceiling there too. Corbin was about ten seconds away from losing his patience and normally he was a very patient man.

Starting in the bedroom and then working his way back up to the attic, Corbin cursed lightly as he went. Each stair creaked under his foot as he made his way to the paint chipped door. The brass knob was cold under hand and he twisted it, pulling it open to reveal the large empty space. The flashlight served its purpose until he was able to turn the overhead light on near the center of the attic and then he went to where the source of the water should have been. There was a small circle on the floor. A dark ring of wood that looked as though it was wet. Corbin knelt down and pressed his hand to the wood. It was moist. With a frown he turned his head up to the ceiling of the attic thinking that maybe the leak had been from the roof all along, but there was no water there and it wasn’t as if it had been raining lately. As he looked back down at the spot and ran his fingers over it again something caught his hear. A humming sound. It was so faint that he wouldn’t have heard it had it not been dead quiet in the house. Yet as he sat there, holding his breath for utter silence, he could hear it. A woman’s humming.

“Hello?” Corbin called out. He looked from side to side, trying to figure out just where this sound was coming from. The humming didn’t stop when he called, it stayed steady and coming from the other end of the attic. Funny how little attention he’d paid to this space before because at the other end there was a door. Not once in all the time he’d been up there had he noticed it. And now that he knew it was there he had a compulsion to cross and to throw it open.

One slow step at a time Corbin crossed the attic and approached the door. As he neared it the humming grew louder. Whatever…whoever was making that noise was behind that door. He lifted his hand and as his fingers brushed over the knob the phone gave a startling ring from downstairs. Corbin jumped so much he dropped his flashlight and cursed at the disturbance. Once his heart stopped racing he paused again, waiting to still hear the humming but it had stopped. The phone ringing, however, had not. Begrudgingly he picked up his flashlight and jogged over to the door that led out of the attic and down the stairs. The door at the end of the attic was once again left forgotten.

For the entire next week there was no leak in the ceiling. And just like that Corbin forgot about his little problem. Forgot about the door in the attic. He’d finally found the calm he’d been looking for when he bought the house in the first place. It was perfect for him to be able to just sit back and work on his writing, completely uninterrupted. Everything was working out so well that Corbin found himself in a perpetual good mood. Until he was awoke by the sound of the water dripping from the ceiling. It seemed that nothing good could last.

The light in the attic swung overhead as Corbin hastily tugged the string to turn it on. He stood there in his robe and slippers, clutching his flashlight as he shone it over the floor to the ever-growing spot on the floor. He still couldn’t figure out where the water was coming from but now that he was back up here that seemed to be the least of his concerns. The door was now what he was focused on. With tentative steps he came back across the room to the door and this time knew there would be no distractions. His fingers touched down to the brass and wrapped around it to turn the knob. He did it slowly, cringing slightly as it squeaked while he turned it. When it clicked open he slowly pulled the door open, letting it open all the way until it hit the wall. The inside of the room was dark so he lifted his flashlight and let it shine over the floor and slowly towards the corner. There was a rocking chair there and as the light hit it the humming started. With a shaking hand he guided the light upwards over the feet and up the body of a pale young woman who rocked herself in time to the humming. For several stunned seconds Corbin just stood there looking at her, wondering just what the hell she was doing in his house and just what the hell was going on, but he was too scared to say anything.

After a moment he finally found his voice. “Hello?” He asked meekly, trying to draw the attention of the woman, but she kept her eyes down on her hands, which worked busily at her knitting. A creak on the steps that led up to the attic drew Corbin’s attention away for a second and when he looked back shed stopped humming and was staring right at him. Setting her knitting aside and picking up her candle the woman rose from the chair and crossed the room. Corbin stumbled back as fast as he could and let her pass him as she walked out of the room and turned to look at the attic door. He followed her with the beam from his flashlight only to see that the attic had changed. The boxes were gone and the roughly patched ceiling leaked in one spot. There was a constant drip that created a puddle just where his leak was now. “Who are you and what is going on?” He asked the woman, trying to be brave. She didn’t turn her head away from the door. She just stared at it, waiting.

When the doorknob starts to turn I take a deep breath and hold it. Fear resonates through me so completely and I’m sure I’ll die before he even makes it into the room but the door slowly opens, just a crack and then a little wider. Candle light flickers over his face creating shadows on him that make him look the human embodiment of the devil inside of him. “You went downstairs.” He speaks slowly in a low and quiet voice. It sounds so gentle but I know better. I don’t even try to defend myself because no matter what I say he won’t listen. And it was the truth. I’d gone down looking for a way out when I knew that he was gone for the afternoon but everything was locked. Every door, every window, every possible escape. “I told you that you could never go downstairs.” There is a low inhuman growl to his voice now and I’m shaking so badly I can barely even hold the candle up. I already know what he’s going to do.

“I told you that you could never go downstairs.” The voice growled in the attic, sending shivers down Corbin’s spine. As he’d stood there trying to speak to the woman the door had opened and a man had come in. It had caused him to freeze; unaware of what was going on and in a mild state of shock. He could feel the fear coming off of the woman in suffocating waves and at the same time he could feel the anger simmering inside. He watched as the scene unfolded before him. The man moved so fast. Grabbing a hold of the woman he knocked the candle out of her hand and he drug her back to the door she’d emerged from earlier. Roughly he shoved her inside and threw the lock on the door.

“NO!” She screamed through it, her fists beating against the wood already as she tried to break free of the door. “You can’t lock me in here! You can’t leave me in here!”

“It’s for the best, Elizabeth. It’s for the best.” The man put his hand against the door, a look of anguish crossing his face before he retreated and went back downstairs. The door slammed behind them and sealed the attic into darkness.

Corbin blinked once and the light in the attic was back on. He still had his death grip on the flashlight and slowly he turned his head towards the door just opposite of him. It was closed, the lock thrown. Swallowing his fear he crept back towards it and twisted the lock open. Slower than before he pulled the door open. His light shown up the side of it and he could see the bloody claw marks on the inside of the door from where Elizabeth had pounded and clawed and tried to break free of her prison. The smell inside the room was horrible but he took a small breath and stepped forward. As he came slowly in he let the light trail over the floor until it came to the rocking chair in the corner. Sitting on it was the girl but she was dead. Long dead. Her once beautiful pale face was now rotted away so that not even her eyes remained in the sockets. The curly black hair that had framed her face was sparse and brittle and her clothes sunk against her rotting figure. Tears stung at Corbin’s eyes as he took one more step closer to get just a tiny bit of a better look.

The light in his flash light started to flicker and slowly dim as his batteries started to die. Grumbling he hit it against his hand, needing the light to see her but what made him stop was the quiet humming coming from behind him. He turned, eyes wide, to see Elizabeth standing in the door, the same girl that had been knitting in the chair. The light from the attic outlined her body but he could still see the small smile on her face. Her hand came up and caught the side of the door. Corbin dropped the flashlight, realizing what it was she intended to do, but it was too late. With that impish little smile she slammed the door shot and slid the lock into place. Corbin beat his fists against the door and cried out in alarm. He was trapped.

For hours he beat against the door, screaming until he was exhausted and his throat was hoarse. Only when he could hardly hold himself up did he sink back against the wall, cradling the flashlight, which had now completely gone out. And beyond his tears he could hear her quiet humming and she whispered something he could hardly make out.

It’s for the best Corbin, it’s for the best.