Emily froze, listening intently. The skittering continued—light, quick, and unmistakably moving somewhere above her. She squinted toward the ceiling, the hair on her arms standing on end. “Okay… no ghosts, no ghosts, just… something alive,” she muttered, trying to calm herself.
Determined to get to the bottom of it, Emily grabbed a sturdy chair and carefully placed it beneath the attic hatch. She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Alright, Emily… you’ve got this. It’s just an attic. Nothing scary… just…” Her voice trailed off as the noise shifted slightly, as if whatever it was had noticed her presence.
Summoning every ounce of courage, she climbed onto the chair and reached for the latch. The hatch creaked ominously as she pulled it open, revealing a dark, narrow space above. Emily shined her flashlight into the attic, her beam cutting through the dust-filled air.
For a tense moment, she saw nothing but cobwebs, old boxes, and forgotten furniture. Then, a pair of glowing eyes reflected her flashlight beam from behind a stack of crates. Emily gasped, stumbling back a step. “Oh… it’s… it’s just a raccoon!” she exclaimed, relief flooding her as she laughed nervously.
The little creature chittered and scrambled further back into the shadows, clearly as startled by her as she had been by it. Emily shook her head, chuckling to herself. “All this drama… over a raccoon.” She made a mental note to set up a proper way to safely remove it the next day. For the first time in nights, she felt a tiny spark of peace settle over the house.