The ad claimed empty rooms in the attic for rent. That sounded perfect to me. I really was more of a basement dweller, but the attic sounded nice and dreary too. It may seem strange to others, but those dreary places were just perfect for me. They just gave me a sense of comfort.
“Hey, so you have an attic space for rent?” I ask on the call.
“Yup, sure do honey. There are two rooms up there, you can take both or just one. Would you like to come by and see them? There is even a door on the outside with a small patio on the roof. I just don’t need all this space since the kids left home.” The soft southern voice felt like it was thick as honey.
“That sounds alright…” I answer, unsure of what to make of any of that. An attic with a patio? A balcony more like, but still… that is a bit weird. Well, I need a place, I can’t keep living outta my van. “How about in an hour?” I ask her.
“Oh sure, honey. That sounds marvelous. I will be here all day. In fact I am always here, so come on by whenever you are free.” She said.
That sounded almost ominous… “Yeah, I will head that way now. Thanks… see you soon.”
“For sure honey, see you then” she said.
I hung up before she could say more. There was something about her that just gave me the heebie jeebies… And yet… she intrigued me all the same. There was something compelling about her, more than the creepy factor. Pulling up in front of the house I knew the place was perfect… It was secluded, with woods out back… Of course it totally had that Hansel and Gretel vibe going for it, which made me want to stay that much more.
Walking up the door opened before I even hit the top stair of the porch. No one was there… I crept inside slowly and the door slammed shut with a bang. My fangs popped out, and I knew this was going to be perfect… but a word to the wise, unless you are the bigger bad, never answer ads for rooms in the attic for rent.
There you have it, I hope you enjoyed. What vibes does the prompt instill in you? What is your take on it? Please share in the comments below. I love hearing from you! And if you haven’t seen them yet, please check out the anthologies I am published in, the MN Emerging Writers and the National Edition!
I wondered if the narrator was a vampire when they said they were more of basement dweller. As I write a lot of vampire fiction I guess it makes me more suspicious.
Absolutely they are, although that was not supposed to show in the beginning, but when the narrators fangs pop out, and the implication that the narrator is the “bigger bad”… that is when it shows
I was getting desperate for a place to stay. Aunt Hilda made it clear the room in the back of her house was mine only until the end of the month. It was the 28th now. Everything was either too small, too expensive, too this or too that.
I had three days and I was tired of pounding the city streets looking for a place that worked. One that was near enough to the university I could walk there, even in the snow.
“Empty Rooms for Rent in the Attic!” The ad’s headline blared at me. The odd phrasing I ignored. The rest of the description described what sounded to me like an entire floor, a suite of rooms, in the attic of a home that was just three blocks from campus.
The rent was right, too.
How could I not at least check it out?
The woman who answered the door was small. Barely 4 1/2 feet tall. She looked up at me when I told her I was there to see about the rooms. “Ah yes. Good. Come,” she stepped aside, “Come in.”
We walked up two flights of stairs from which hallways led to closed doors, and then to a third flight that stopped at a door. No hall. No windows. Just a door.
The woman pulled a key from a pocket in her dress and slid it into the lock on the door. She turned to me and smiled as she opened the door. “My name is Greta. Greta Harlan. And you are?”
“Joe.”
“Joe?”
“Yes, Joe Irving. I’m enrolled at the university.”
“Yes, yes. Of course you are.” Ms. Harlan stepped to the side of the narrow staircase. “Please take a look around.”
I stepped into the first room. It was bare of furniture, but had two windows from which sunlight streamed in. At the opposite end, there was a doorway that led to another room and even further in, I could see what looked like a small kitchen beyond another doorway.
As I walked further into the first room, I was distracted by a sound. It was the door behind me closing. And then the sound of the key turning in the lock.
I turned my back on the rest of the rooms and looked at the door. “Ms. Harlan?”
The last sound I heard was of a creaking board behind me.
By the way, I never read your take before I write mine.
Isn’t it crazy! I don’t read them before writing either, if Imma write a story too. I read after. So fun to see how differently or similarly we respond to a prompt!
Random Acts of Writing 
I wondered if the narrator was a vampire when they said they were more of basement dweller. As I write a lot of vampire fiction I guess it makes me more suspicious.
Absolutely they are, although that was not supposed to show in the beginning, but when the narrators fangs pop out, and the implication that the narrator is the “bigger bad”… that is when it shows
I was getting desperate for a place to stay. Aunt Hilda made it clear the room in the back of her house was mine only until the end of the month. It was the 28th now. Everything was either too small, too expensive, too this or too that.
I had three days and I was tired of pounding the city streets looking for a place that worked. One that was near enough to the university I could walk there, even in the snow.
“Empty Rooms for Rent in the Attic!” The ad’s headline blared at me. The odd phrasing I ignored. The rest of the description described what sounded to me like an entire floor, a suite of rooms, in the attic of a home that was just three blocks from campus.
The rent was right, too.
How could I not at least check it out?
The woman who answered the door was small. Barely 4 1/2 feet tall. She looked up at me when I told her I was there to see about the rooms. “Ah yes. Good. Come,” she stepped aside, “Come in.”
We walked up two flights of stairs from which hallways led to closed doors, and then to a third flight that stopped at a door. No hall. No windows. Just a door.
The woman pulled a key from a pocket in her dress and slid it into the lock on the door. She turned to me and smiled as she opened the door. “My name is Greta. Greta Harlan. And you are?”
“Joe.”
“Joe?”
“Yes, Joe Irving. I’m enrolled at the university.”
“Yes, yes. Of course you are.” Ms. Harlan stepped to the side of the narrow staircase. “Please take a look around.”
I stepped into the first room. It was bare of furniture, but had two windows from which sunlight streamed in. At the opposite end, there was a doorway that led to another room and even further in, I could see what looked like a small kitchen beyond another doorway.
As I walked further into the first room, I was distracted by a sound. It was the door behind me closing. And then the sound of the key turning in the lock.
I turned my back on the rest of the rooms and looked at the door. “Ms. Harlan?”
The last sound I heard was of a creaking board behind me.
Ohhhhh… I love that! Eerie and so very fun! I really feel like this one suits the Hansel and Gretel vibe so well.
By the way, I never read your take before I write mine.
Isn’t it crazy! I don’t read them before writing either, if Imma write a story too. I read after. So fun to see how differently or similarly we respond to a prompt!