The Creaky Shadows of Widow’s Attic

“Did you hear that?” Anna whispered, her flashlight shaking so hard it looked like it was trying to do the cha-cha.

Eddy squinted up the attic stairs. “Hear what?”

A long, slow creak echoed from above—like someone stepping on a giant peanut.

They were standing at the foot of the attic stairs in Mrs. Wong’s crooked little house on the edge of town. The widow had just left for the day and told the kids they could explore anywhere except the attic. But now, with the creak still echoing in their ears, it was hard not to wonder what—or who—was up there.

“I think it wants us to come up,” Lily X said dramatically, like she was narrating a movie trailer.

“No way!” Emma squeaked. “That’s where all the creepy stories come from!”

“But also where my missing sock went last year,” Bell added solemnly.

Hyuga adjusted his glasses. “We must face our fears… or at least find out if there are cookies up there.”

So up the creaking stairs they went, one by one. Dust motes danced in the air like tiny fairies caught in moonlight. Cobwebs clung to forgotten trunks and broken rocking horses. And then… there was the shadow.

It wasn’t like any shadow they’d ever seen. It moved slowly, stretching across the floorboards like ink spilled in water. It didn’t belong to anything—not a chair, or a coat, or even a window frame. Just… a shape that shouldn’t have been.

Bell reached out a hand. “Hello?”

The shadow paused.

Then it waved back .

Everyone screamed and jumped back, knocking over a stack of old books that shouted, “DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Alexis stood her ground. “Wait! Maybe it’s not scary.”

“It waved,” Lily N added, squinting. “Shadows don’t wave.”

Pye peeked around the corner. “Unless it’s Shadow Bob from Shadow School.”

Hyuga took a cautious step forward. “Maybe it’s hungry.”

Eddy stepped closer. “Hey, shadow? Are you okay?”

The shadow gave a small wiggle, like a shy puppy doing yoga.

Anna turned off her flashlight. “Let’s try without lights. Sometimes shadows like the dark better.”

One by one, they switched off their flashlights until only the pale glow of the moon came through the attic window.

And then something amazing happened.

The shadow began to change. It swirled and shimmered, growing taller, thinner, and forming into the shape of a little girl. Her eyes were made of starlight, and her dress looked like woven fog.

“My name is Vivian,” the shadow-girl whispered. “I live here now. I’m kind of a caretaker.”

Lily X blinked. “You mean like a ghost janitor?”

Vivian grinned. “Exactly! I dust, I organize, and I occasionally scare pigeons away from the chimney.”

Emma tilted her head. “Why did you wave at us?”

Vivian shrugged. “I get lonely. Most people run away screaming when they hear creaks. You guys stayed. That deserves a high five.”

She floated forward and gave everyone a glowing high five. Even the air tingled.

Over the next few weeks, Vivian became their secret friend. She couldn’t leave the attic, but she loved hearing jokes, playing hide-and-seek (she always won), and dancing in circles under the moonlight while humming show tunes.

But Vivian had a request: she wanted help throwing the best attic party ever.

“I’ve never had guests before,” she explained. “And I found this dusty disco ball. It’s destiny.”

So the group planned an attic bash. They brought snacks, string lights, and a boombox that played polka music no matter what button you pressed.

Vivian decorated with cobwebs like streamers and used floating candles as centerpieces. The highlight of the night was when she taught them how to dance through walls.

By the end of the night, everyone was laughing too hard to be scared—even when the grandfather clock downstairs started singing backup vocals.

Now, whenever the wind blows just right, and the attic door creaks open, the kids know it’s just Vivian inviting them for another silly adventure.

Not scary. Not sad.

Just warm.

And full of laughter.