"Into the Attic" by Joel Austin
Into the Attic
by Joel Austin
Assimilated: A blog for the future – Issue Four
We are all aware of the “curiosity killed the cat” trope in horror movies, right? The old, “DON’T GO IN THERE!” moments, watching a protagonist walk toward their certain demise. It’s been done so many times that it’s been parodied on multiple occasions—Scream, Tucker and Dale, and of course Cabin in the Woods. Well, I think what I’ve learned is that tropes like that exist not because of lazy writing, but because humans just haven’t changed.
Whether it’s an unknowable danger or just touching the paint while it’s still wet, people can’t help but give in to whatever primal urge tells them to “do it anyways.” Even though they are well aware of the hazards that might wait on the other side of their decision.
It’s madness.
It’s chaos.
It’s anarchy.
***
It was late, which meant it was dark, the path to my room lit by a handful of small nightlights plugged in at weird intervals, making me squint to see.
“Whoa!” I cried as Todd barreled into me as I came up the stairs.
Todd had walked with purpose down the hallway. His fourteen-year-old eyes were glassy, like they were seeing beyond me and our surroundings. I didn’t know what he was seeing, but he was as focused as our dog on pizza night. Something was off. We were only two years apart, so I knew my little brother pretty well. I’d never seen him act like this.
Todd looked up at me, with foggy eyes bulging like a stuffed animal, mostly pupils. He took a step back, and his head started shaking violently from side to side. Back and forth so fast and for so long ... I was about to call for help, but suddenly Todd went completely still except for his mouth. It looked like his lips were being stretched, like rubber bands, with such measured care into a grimace I hoped was intended to be a smile.
“Hi Bryan,” Todd said, and his head drooped lazily to the side so that his ear met his shoulder.
“You okay, dude?” Maybe he was just sleepwalking?
“Do you want to come to the attic with me, Bry?” Behind him, the door to the attic stairs rattled, causing my mouth to go dry and my skin to ripple with goosebumps. At the time, I was sure my imagination was playing some sort of trick on me, but I thought I saw a ripple of purple light pulse from the cracks around the frame.
“Dad says we’re not supposed to go in there. There are loose nails and unsteady boards that we could fall through,” I said, quicker than I meant to if I didn’t want to appear terrified. “Besides, it’s locked.”
Todd shrugged his shoulders and turned around. I reached out to grab him, to stop him, but he moved with confidence that I’d never seen inside of this house. His gait was magnetic. My feet acted of their own will, and I followed—the forbidden eggshell colored door growing larger as we approached.
My brother’s serene stare was creepy, hollow, and calm. The opposite of his normal behavior made Dad so angry. Todd would bounce from floor to ceiling, and Dad would yell so loud that the drywall shook. I always figured that’s why the wallpaper had so many bubbles in it. But dad would have really loved this version of his boy.
I watched Todd’s back disappear into the purple thrumming space beyond the threshold, the white wooden door shutting slowly in his wake. This would have been the moment where the audience yelled, “Don’t go in there! Don’t open that door!” But into the attic I went.
Curiosity, knife in hand, always seems to catch up to the cat at the worst times.
I couldn’t resist. I leaned forward, pushing the door open, and fell into a space that didn’t feel like Earth; the air was too thick and gummy. Pushing ahead, I was washed with a majestic purple light and a vibrational hum that set me at complete ease, the tension in the atmosphere releasing like a deflating bouncy house. A consciousness manifested in a gaseous form before turning into pure energy to beam into my molecules. A hug from a billion arms.
Outside of Todd, I hadn’t felt an embrace like that in years.
Then it was gone.
I saw the table. I knew I had to lie down so the hive could download into me.
It only hurt for a minute. Like stepping on a rusty nail, the cool metal opens a new space. Only, it felt like there was a nail for every cell in my body boring its way into my skin, letting its energy tunnel through and make itself at home. The emotional tether between me and my memories snapped as the experiences of a billion other lifeforms entered my head. We were all one; we exist to grow and grow to survive.
Todd and I had become hive; our parents would be through their transformation soon. Then, we began our task.
***
It wasn’t difficult to bring the first neighbors up to the attic. Many years of living next to a person make it hard to be anything less than hospitable when a small favor is asked. They must not have had that same voice in the back of their head telling them not to open that door at the end of the hallway; they must not have heard the soft multi-tonal hum muffled by the door. Once they were bathed in the purple glow, they took a piece of light with them to share with others.
It may be a friend inviting you over for dinner, a neighbor needing help moving a couch, or even your own mother asking you to remove a varmint from her attic, but the hive is coming. We’ll see you soon.
The End.