Bones in the Attic
There once lived a girl named Matilda Barns. She was 12 years old and had a pet cat named Sammy Whiskers—Sammy for short. She lived in a small town and her parents were very wealthy. In fact, their house was the biggest in town. Matilda lived like any other girl her age. She went to the best school; however, she was an average student in her class. Her parents worked very hard to provide her with a good education and a comfortable life.
Matilda was a brave girl—nothing ever seemed to scare her. But she had one fear—the attic of her house. Now, you might think that’s a silly thing to be afraid of, but think again. The attic was the spookiest place she had ever seen. She had only been inside once, when she was five years old, and had never gone back. Her parents had questioned her about it, but she never answered them.
On her 13th birthday, she decided it was time to face her fear. Determined, she grabbed a flashlight and climbed the ladder leading to the attic. As she entered, she found some fascinating things—old dresses, toys and other family treasures. Then, something caught her attention—a large, dusty trunk. She stepped closer and saw big letters written on the lid—‘The Family History of Barns’.
She lifted the heavy lid and found an old-fashioned book—a diary. Holding it in her hands, she continued exploring the attic. Then she noticed another box. At first glance, she thought it was just junk, but when she opened it, she froze in shock. Inside was a bloodstained letter—and beneath it, bones! The letter seemed old, but the blood looked fresh!
Matilda’s mind raced. Who would hide a letter and bones in the attic? She hurried downstairs, clutching the diary, the letter and the bones, and showed them to her parents.
Her mother took the diary, her father held the letter and Matilda kept staring at the bones.
Her father asked, “Did any of your friends hide here while playing hide and seek?” Matilda hesitated. “Yes…well, maybe…but that was ages ago!”
Her mother examined the diary and the bones. “This diary is very old and these bones seem strange too,” she said.
Curious, Matilda asked to see the diary and letter. The letter had three bold words scrawled across it: ‘YOU ARE CURSED.’ The diary, on the other hand, seemed ordinary.
That night, Matilda felt uneasy.
The next day, she went to school and told her friends about everything. They were as confused as she was.
When she got home, she found her parents pale and nervous, still reading the letter. “What happened? What did you find out?” Matilda asked, her voice trembling. Her mother sighed. “We figured out where the letter came from and we’ll know about the bones soon.” Matilda’s heart pounded. “What do you mean? Where did the letter come from?”
Her mother smiled. “It was your uncle. I spoke to him yesterday and he laughed, saying he had planted the letter. You know how much he loves horror stories.” Matilda exhaled in relief.
Then her father said, “As for the bones, we sent them to a forensic lab. They said they’d call back in 30 minutes.” The wait felt endless.
When the phone finally rang, Matilda’s heart thundered in her chest. Her father picked up the call. She desperately asked, “What did they say?”
Her father chuckled. “The bones are just toys—they belonged to your great-grandfather! They have magnets inside, and when connected, they form a spectacular shape.”
Matilda felt a rush of relief—so much so that she wanted to jump for joy. Her father leaned back, smiling. “Let me recall my childhood…I remember your great-grandfather had a great interest in making strange antique toys for children. There weren’t battery-operated toys or cartoons back then. I think he wanted to teach us human anatomy, so he made these bone toys. We used to wonder how bones moved and connected with each other.” He laughed. “Now the lab has revealed his secret— magnets were fitted inside them.”
Matilda paused in deep thought. ‘I envy the way our father was brought up,’ she thought. ‘Can we ever get rid of our mobile phones?’
Yet, despite everything, she still refused to step into the attic ever again.
