Bulls In The Attic

So many experiences happened later on during all these years; but this probably is how it all had started.

At the time of these events I lived with my parents in a rural location of Eastern Hungary. I was a little over 13 years and a rather introverted kid. I had no friends in the neighborhood, basically it was just a long street with only a couple families who had children about the same age I was and eventually I felt okay just happily doing my own thing and voluntarily locked up in my interesting little world. For a long time, even in my adolescence, I thought it was nice that my parents had let me read anything that caught my attention and basically I think there's no way to prevent your kid from getting involved in not-too-beneficial literature without verbal violence, so I guess it was inevitable and as sensitive I was, these things would surely have reached me sooner or later in a way or another. It all comes down to, I guess, families should discuss more personal issues than they often do, so nobody gets caught up in an unexpected shiat-storm like this, let it be anything.

Back on track, I had frequented the small local library so often that the librarians treated me like their own little apprentice after a short while. One day I stumbled upon a publication on occultism and magic in European culture. Immediately I decided I would borrow it and a glance at the engravings was enough to suck me in like a vacuum with their unique, weird, eerie vibe that felt like a warm nest. In my nighttime explorations while reading, I especially grew interested in Goetia. As a 13-year-old child. I'm 26 now and only in the past couple years I have more-or-less recovered from the avalanche that hit me back then. I had carved pentacles into the surface of my old desk which used to be my grandfather's, I inked an Ouija board and used crystals to gain information from it - with no success. I usually left it with those crystal pieces upon its surface on the top of my wardrobe. The vibe in my room began to change in a short time.

One night I fell asleep after midnight like I usually did, I had a slight insomniac period anyway. Then I woke up around 2 AM, my lights above my bed I used while reading were on. I heard barely noticeable knocks from the desk. It could have been only nighttime noises but it made my hairs stand on end. My nerves could have been a bit damaged back then, but I know something was there and it was real. The blood froze in my veins and I stayed up until I saw the first rays of grey morning light coming in through the curtain.

Then it happened again the next night. Same time, same knocks, however it was more intense this time. I went to my parents' room and woke my mother up. 'I'm hearing the knocking again'. My mum, half-asleep, told me it's just some bugs in my desk and that I shouldn't worry, just leave my bedroom door open and try to rest. I went back to my room and did what she told me but it kept on making those noises. Needless to say I hadn't slept a minute.

The third night I realized the knocks were quite systematic - so I had this idea, what if I 'knocked back', like a 'morse code', so it may simply be convinced to go away. On the side of my bed I attempted to knock a rhythmic message, something in line with 'leave me alone, please'. And the knocks ceased, then an 'answer' came - then I knocked back, I don't remember what. Only thing I know is whenever it was my 'turn', it never made any noise and somehow 'listened'. Like a back-and-forth conversation, all conveyed in raps on wooden surfaces.

On the fourth day I couldn't stand it anymore, when I heard the noises, I begged my mum to come over to my room at dawn to hear it for herself. She was sitting on the edge of my bed - I heard the knocks, she didn't. Simply didn't. My eyes were round like new moons, and she told me she can't hear a thing.

It kept on going for weeks. When nights came I was afraid to lie down and I was terrified of falling asleep. One night I remember I managed to faint into some exhausted rest and I can recall I switched my lamp off which was above my bed. It was a pull string light source and since it had a certain way to turn it on, only a human hand could have done anything to it. And when I suddenly woke up, it was on. I know it could have been my mother who switched it on for me while I was asleep but she told me in the morning she was sound asleep and didn't even come close to my room at night. The day after the very same lamp fell onto my head early in the morning while I was looking upwards. My parents thought I was on drugs, but I hadn't even gotten close to substances those days, so it was ridiculous and pretty embarrassing they thought I simply went crazy.

The knocks continued every night, with a lesser or greater intensity, and no one heard it except me. I got sick, caught a flu or something, was lying in bed for days. And the knocks - Stopped. At least I thought so and I was honestly relieved.

But there was this night when I was half-asleep yet when it started all over again... Only it was like a bull fight in the attic. We never went up there as it was impossible, we had no way to approach the attic door from outside and it was the only way it could work. No stairs, nothing, the door was steadily locked up. Sometimes small rodents found their way up in winter and kept on rolling nuts and pieces of food, but since it was always above my room at a time, I can hardly believe it was really rats... Have you seen 'The Exorcist'? You know what I mean. This time it was something different. Something 'bigger', if it may be put that way. Like somebody was jumping and hammering the ceiling with both feet above my head in the attic. This time my mother heard it too. My father rushed outside in the dark so he could see if someone was making a bad joke. But no one was outside and the throbbing, thundering sounds continued for minutes. Then it, all of a sudden, stopped.

Now they believed me. We didn't hear the noises any longer. I think I briefly encountered them again when I paid a visit home a couple years ago but it didn't bother me anymore. More blood-curdling experiences followed this later on, but I think I'm just prone to attract these more than most people do. I don't wish this to anyone. One can live with it but it's extremely hard and causes plenty of mental issues that are difficult to align with everyday. And I know I was mentally healthy and a happy kid in general until these maelstroms had kicked in with those noises.