Prompt: You discover a person is living in your attack.
There goes that bump on the night. I swear every time I settle in for the night my house specifically my attic comes to life.
Every night without fail something is falling or tap dancing on my ceiling. And every morning when I go up to check there’s a box knocked over, nothing more, nothing less.
Tonight I refuse to be woken up repeatedly to find one single box turned over for no reason.
Jumping out of bed, I grab my metal bat that sits beside my bed, for security purposes, and walk into the bedroom near the front of the house. Max follows me into the bedroom tail wagging and mouth open, some guard dog he is.
I open the closet door that has yet another door leading to the attic. Slowly turning the knob, I usher max in first. Max being the friendly dog he is goes prancing into the attic as happy as ever and stops right in the middle of the room. Tail still wagging and his head angled up, Max appears to be excited by the empty space. I follow Max Into the room, “What are you doing max?” I believe I’ve raised a defective dog, happy about an empty space and doesn’t acknowledge his best friend.
Thanks for joining me for day 8 of my writing challenge. Until next time, Read THS!