((Poster's Note: The name of the Interviewee, the names of his friends and the names of several items mentioned in this account have been redacted In the interest of both privacy and public safety. The following account was related to me by XXXXXXXXX on Moonday, 29th of Widdershins, Year 20 but the events described seem to have happened on either the 23rd or 24th of Widdershins, Year 20. The Interviewee was unable with any certainty to recall the exact date when these events transpired. Subsequent interviews with two friends of the Interviewee failed to establish a single specific date. One friend insisted that the party described occurred on the evening of the 23rd, while the other friend insisted just as strongly that the party occurred on the evening of the 24th. There were no additional witnesses to the events that followed the party other than the main participant.))
+++++++++++
One recent night I was invited to T.......'s for what promised to be a most enjoyable evening. T....... was in rare form as we discussed and debated non-stop the mystery of the seemingly impenetrable attic spaces that had not long ago appeared in each of our houses. Lately "The Attic" had been something of a "destination of desire" for me and so many of my friends. We were all fascinated, and some of our number were perhaps even a little attic obsessed. Certainly not one among us was unaware of this new, unvisited space, and each of us was eager to explore, both the place and the questions that came with it: What on Urth is up there? How do I get up there? And once I get up there, what can I do?
That evening's lively conversations were fueled in part by F.....'s latest cocktail creation, a delicious concoction consisting of one part Essence of Purple, two parts Hooch and one or more "mystery ingredients" (which no amount of coaxing or bribery could convince her to reveal). At the inevitable point in the evening when T......., having had more than enough to drink (as had we all) declared that he was in fact mere days away from acting on his perpetually discussed yet never enacted plan to assassinate The Rube, I decided it was time to stumble home. After much farewell kissing and hugging all around, I managed to dig an embued TP script out of my coat pocket (thank the Giants it was embued as I don't think I would have had the energy to make it home on my own that night) and after the usual unsettling whoosh found myself at my very own front door.
After entering I should have fallen face first into the comforting coziness of the old Yeti Beddy, but the combination of F.....'s cocktails, the stimulating conversation and the lingering post-TP rush had me feeling anything but sleepy. I stood in my living room, gazing up at the ceiling, my mind slowly working back to the evening's earlier discussions - the various attic-related theories, some of which I had already tried (and failed) and some that were just too outlandish to even consider. I chuckled as I recalled T.......'s assertion that a yet to be discovered combination of Prunes and Guano were bound to be somehow involved.
After too much time pondering the infinite possibilities I finally began to feel the pull of sleep, could hear The Yeti softly calling my name. I decided that The Attic could wait. I sank down on the edge of the bed and was removing my shoes when the invisible switch in my head suddenly "clicked", the fireflies in my brain suddenly swarmed and brightly illuminated the now seemingly obvious solution which had in all likelihood been slowly working itself out for days. Oh My Giants! Getting into The Attic was so simple! How hadn't I seen it before?
I leapt up and promptly crashed to the floor. Wincing in pain I squirmed the rest of the way out of my half-removed shoes and grabbed eleven XXXXXXX from the shelf over the bar, pulled my XXXXXX and a XXX XXXXXXXX from the Tool Box and went out back to get a Plop from one of my XXXXXXX. I laughed again recalling T.......'s Guano idea. Still, he had been close.
Remaining out back and holding a tinkertool in each hand, I placed the 11 XXXXXXX in a circle on the ground as I recited the first three verses from Chapter Seven of The XXXXXXXXX Book of XX. I suppose I didn't really expect it work, so when it failed I wasn't that disappointed. But then I recalled that I had forgotten to place the XXXXXX on top of the XXX XXXXXXX in the middle of the circle. I began to recite again and almost immediately found myself in The Attic!
I was still grasping the Tinkertools in each hand. I had better luck putting them away than I did wiping the huge grin from my face. I had done it! Wait until I regaled T....... with victorious tale! I wasn't usually one for bragging but if ever there was time...Perhaps I should go out and send him a Frog right now! I was about to do just that when I stopped in my tracks, remembering how inebriated he had been and felt bad for the poor Frog who would probably have to hover near T.......'s bed all night listening to a cacophonous symphony of snores.
After the initial excitement passed and my heart had returned to something resembling a normal pulse, I got my first good look at the place. To be completely honest, it was something of an anti-climax. There was nothing particularly special or out of the ordinary up here. It was very much the kind of place you could imagine with no Imagination whatsoever. It was woody, splintery, darker than the rooms below and seemingly empty. In the end, after all of the conjecture, the wonder and the mystery, getting up here was a bit of a letdown. Figuring out how to get up here had been fantastic, but the space itself was nothing to write home about. However, I also knew that it wouldn't be too difficult, with a bit of work, to fix the place right up.
Returning to my home street was of course simply accomplished, and once the circle out back had been activated it was easy enough to travel up and down at will. Accordingly I dove right in, bringing up a few randow items, some cubis and even a pot of flowers. After working perhaps a quarter of an hour I took a breather, looked around and was actually surprised and very pleased with the initial results. The formerly drab, non-descript attic had quickly been transformed into a cozy new addition to my home. My mind began to formulate possibilities for this newly claimed space. Piggy Parlor? Dance Nook? Meditation Studio? Then it hit me: Yoga Studio! Those Mail Frogs were always yammering on about their awesome Yoga skills. Perhaps one of them could be enticed into teaching Yoga up here instead of
just showing off all the time.
My mind was occupied with figuring out how one would go about sending mail to a Mail Frog when I noticed something in the darkest, far back end of the attic that had previously escaped my attention. I walked over, gazed down saw what appeared to be a small pile of Hot Pepper. Next to the Pepper was a smudged scrap of paper, which read, "Do Not Touch! Property of".
Unfortunately that was all I could read. The rest of the note was missing, torn away or perhaps consumed by hungry mice.
I read it again. "Do Not Touch! Property of" made no sense. These houses were brand new. Who could have been up here before me? No one had ever lived here before. Maybe tomorrow I would trek down to the Bureaucratic Hall and see if they knew anything about a previous owner. I couldn't begin to make sense of it now so I decided instead to simply carry on and keep at it. Searching for a broom I rummaged through my tool kit. I found a hoe, a shovel and even a a barnacle scraper, but no broom. Improvising, I decided to use what was left of the "Do Not Touch" Note as a makeshift dust pan while "sweeping" up as much of the Hot Pepper as I could with the Scraper.
As soon as my hand made contact with the Note there was a deafening roar. I cringed, my hands rising to cover my ears as a burst of dark smoke filled the room. The Note fluttered back to the floor. I began to gasp and cough as the temperature rose from pleasant to beyond scorching in a matter of seconds. Throbbing pain filled my skull as I grew dizzy, my vision beginning to fail. I rocked back and forth, trying to keep my balance when suddenly, perhaps 5 feet in front of me, a shadowy form began to emerge from the billowing smoke. My brain struggled to identify the menacing figure that was now quickly approaching. Here I was, all alone and trapped in the attic with...whatever this was. I attempted to scream for help through my ceaseless coughing, but alas there was no one around for miles. I feared then that I was doomed to perish alone in a room that just moments before had been filled with little more than the potential for a fun-filled future. If only I had sent that Frog to T........
The heat and smoke made it almost impossible to breathe. I was on the verge of losing consciousness. With my last ounce of energy I managed (how I know not) to pull my camera from my pocket and with great effort took a snapshot of the rapidly advancing figure. Although I would most likely perish at the hands of this demon, I wanted my last action on Urth to leave a record of this horrifying event in order that others might find my camera and thus be warned of the dangers lurking above us all. My eyes closed as I collapsed. As I fell to the ground it felt as if my skin was beginning to smoulder and burn. Thankfully at that point I began to lose consciousness, plunged as it were into into a sweet, dark unawareness, sure only of my impending death.
How much time passed I can not say. All I know for sure is that I awoke. And to my extreme surprise I was not, as I had very much expected, dead or inhabiting any form of "afterlife". Instead I was on my back, staring straight up at what was clearly the ceiling of my attic. (The absurd thought that passed through my mind as I lay there? "Wait! Now I'll never know what happens when I'm Unimagined!")
I sat up with some difficulty and looked around. The appearance of the attic had not changed since....since when? How long had passed? Hours, days, perhaps even weeks? Everything that happened, that seemed to have happened...was it real? I groaned as I struggled to stand. My breathing seemed fine, but my head was sore. I reached back and found a large, still painful (so probably recent) bump where I suppose my head must have hit the floor.
None of this made any sense. I knew that what I thought I remembered could not have possibly happened and tried to think back through all I had experienced: getting up into The Attic, the tattered Note, the Hot Pepper, the smoke, the menacing figure. What was the last thing I remembered before any of this had happened?
I recalled being at T.......'s, lively discussions, laughter and lots and lots of drinks made with Purple and Hooch. Was it F.....'s crazy new cocktail? I had imbibed more than my fair share that night. Had the quantity and combination of ingredients wreaked havoc with my imagination? To be on the safe side I vowed then and there that I would not be drinking more of F.....'s vision-inducing cocktails any time soon, and never again would I ignore the cozy promise of my Yeti Beddy. I felt sure that this would all make more sense the next time I awoke, refreshed and restored. Any additional work getting the attic whipped into shape could wait until late late tomorrow morning (or evening) after many hours of deep, dark delicious sleep.
As I moved to exit, something caught my eye.
I froze, fear robbing me of the ability to move.
There on the floor, exactly where it had been in my "vision", lay a somewhat crumpled scrap of paper! And right next to it, to my horror, sat a very familiar looking pile of Red Pepper! I had, over the years, often read the phrase "My mind reeled" in any number of the poorly written adventure stories that occupied so much of my free time. At the precise moment when I realized that the Note and the Hot Pepper were back I gained an instantaneous understanding of this hackneyed phrase. I struggled in vain to comprehend the implications of my discovery. If the note was still there, or there again, or there at all...it could only mean that my "vision" was no vision at all, which was of course impossible. I could not begin to reconcile the conflicting possibilities. In my agitation I collapsed once more, pulling my hair and roughly slapping my face, hoping to escape from what was surely just a hallucinatory aftershock, a final apparition before the various substances I had ingested were done taunting me with their tortuous confusion. My mind reeled indeed!
There was no moment of realization, no dawning awareness of what had "really" happened or not. There was only confusion, followed by more confusion and finally, mercifully, a small island of clarity in the midst of the raging sea of bewilderment. I clung to this tiny speck of lucidity, still unable to comprehend what had happened but undeniably certain about what I needed to do. Keeping an eye on the Note and the Hot Pepper, I crouched down and did a quick scan of the floor. There! I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the scorched black metal body of my camera. The glass lens was shattered. Even after I slid the mangled digicam into my pocket my hand refused to let go. Whether this was because I was afraid I might drop it or because I was afraid it might be taken from me I can't say.
Finally, after glancing once more at the Note and nearby pile of Hot Pepper, I stood with some difficulty and focused, concentrating as best I could on leaving this accursed place. After a few shaky attempts I found myself at the front of my house.
Daring not enter, I made my way to the street sign and without looking grasped the first name my hand encountered. Moments later I was pounding on a door. After some delay the door was opened and there stood a sleepy looking F....., rubbing her half-closed eyes as I pushed past inside and immediately locked the door behind us.
That was two days ago. F..... looks at me with a strange expression every time our eyes meet. She says she believes me, but I'm not sure that she does. I'm not even sure I believe me. The one thing I do know is that she is getting tired of me sleeping on her couch. And of course my own Yeti Beddy is soooo much more comfortable than her lumpy Love Seat.
F.....thinks I should get it over with, try and fix my camera and see what, if anything, is on there. Did I even take a shot? What if I did? What if what I see there is even worse than what I remember? What if there is no photo? No photo could mean anything...I still wouldn't know.....anything.
I know it might help to see either way, but I'm in no hurry for another look at whatever I encountered up in The Attic. And I'm certainly not quite ready to go /home yet.
+++++++++++
ETA: Please note that though I am the poster of the events related above, I am not the Glitch to whom this happened. By chance I happened to hear about this strange tale from a mutual friend, proceeded to contact the Glitch involved and conducted the interview you have just read. Signed on this day of our Giants, Hairday, 10th of Bruise, Year 21: The Cat Face.