Chapter 7 - The Footsteps Overhead
Before Mr. Bell could reach for the envelope, a sharp, heavy thud echoed directly above their heads from the ceiling.
Thump.
It sounded like someone wearing heavy boots had just dropped onto the floorboards of the disused attic.
Sarah grabbed Mr. Bell’s arm, her fingers digging in tight. “There’s no one else in the house. We checked the locks before dusk.”
“Stay here,” Mr. Bell instructed quietly, his hand sliding into his coat pocket where he kept a small brass pocketknife.
He stepped out into the hallway, the old floorboards groaning in protest beneath his weight. He flicked on the wall switch, but the hallway light flickered violently twice before burning out completely, plunging the passage into pitch-black shadow.
From the top of the grand staircase, leading up into the suffocating darkness of the third-floor attic, came the sound of a slow, deliberate footstep.
May you like
Creak... creak...
And then, a faint, breathy voice whispered down from the stairwell—not calling out to Mr. Bell, but repeating a single phrase over and over in a tone that sounded chillingly familiar.
