What am I saying, of course it’s not normal. I don’t know where this thing came from. A mold started to grow in my attic that had a shape. It started out as a little pile of dust that I noticed when I was getting christmas decorations from my attic. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. “It’s an attic, of course it’s going to be dusty.” But then it started to grow. Everytime I notice the growth it seems to get bigger. The bigger it gets the more intrigued I become about what it could be. Then, about mid February I noticed it smiling at me. The mold stuff was really smiling at me. Just a small smile at first, but now it was teeth. Sharp, misshapen teeth. It’s beginning to grin at me. 

I’ve had seven mold experts come to my house, each time I pray that they see what I am seeing. All the men who have come to my house and inspect my attic end up looking at me like I’m crazy. I have insisted with them to use the moisture meters and take any test possible to determine that there is mold there. Every answer is the same. “I don’t see any mold in this attic in the first place. It looks spotless.”  

“There is seriously nothing there. Your attic is actually the cleanest attic I’ve ever seen.” Number seven says to me. He even has the commercial grade mold remover in his hand, and yet he doesn’t see the massive growth of mold the size of my torso. 

“Well yeah… I have been bleaching this entire attic every week because that fucking smile keeps coming back bigger than before.” 

“You need to be careful using that much bleach, it’s a very harmful chemical you know. It can go straight to your head and fuck you up big time.” He pats me on the shoulder with a ‘this poor girl’ look. God, can someone just take me seriously? Does this guy seriously think I’m high on bleach fumes?

I led him out the door and back to his car. It’s a warm summer day and from the outside of my house everything looks cheery and completely ordinary. But, on the inside something evil is growing. Don’t ask me how, I just know whatever is growing in my house wants me. Clearly I have to figure this thing out on my own. Maybe I should call a psychic. Or maybe someone from Area 51? No. It’ll be useless. I have to go up there and find out what it is. 

I make my way back to the attic, this time with a camera in my hand. If I can take a picture of it, maybe I can show it to other people. No one can dispute a picture. 

Snap. The polaroid dispenses the picture and… It’s there! It’s really there captured on film! Thank god for all of those horrible ghost watcher shows that were always playing during my long college nights, they really were educational. 

I look at the polaroid once more, completely elated that this stupid piece of information worked. But that’s when I noticed it. There was an arm like shape that wasn’t there when I had the mold guy in the attic. It seemed to be reaching out at me from the wall. No, not reaching, pointing. 

I look up horrified, and at first all I see is that smile… But it has formed into a new shape. While I was standing right there, too distracted by this fucking picture it changed from a general blob shape, to a human shape. It now had a torso, arms, shoulders, and a head with that same smile right there on the face. I can’t believe what I am seeing. This gray mass of mold that had tormented me for months with that awful smile now looks human. 

I ran back downstairs, shaking and confused. But, I’m not confused by what I just saw… I was confused because the moment I crossed the threshold out of my attic, I stopped smiling. The entire time I was in the attic I was grinning. What is happening to me? Am I really going crazy? I held my sore cheeks and my mind raced about what to do. 

“I need to bleach the attic again.”

“No, I can’t go back up there.”

“I need to pray.”

“I need to show someone this picture.”

“Maybe the library has some books on strange mold.” 

“Jesus Christ, will you stop shaking like this? Pull yourself together you spineless bitch.” 

“Not Jesus Christ.”

“It’s stuck to the wall. Maybe if I never go in there again nothing bad will happen.” 

“Go into the attic.” 

“It is a very nice attic.”

“Pray.” 

“I do have a lot of stuff up there that I need.” 

“Find me.” 

“It’s just mold. I can deal with that.” 

“Pray.”

“Why do I feel this way?”

“Pray.”

“I think I need to go into the attic and pray…”

“Pray.”

“Yes.”

“Pray.”

“NO! What is happening? It’s getting inside my head!” 

“Worship me.”

“No! Why!”

“Worship me, you have been for months. You can’t get me out of your head and now you have willingly let me in. Just come upstairs and worship me.”

There’s no way for me to escape this thing. I know it. 

Without another thought I run to the attic door and slam it shut. Locking the door the moment it shuts. Now I understand why the attic door has a lock on the outside. I board up the attic door and breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever this is, hopefully it dies there.

The voice has stopped. For months I didn’t hear one peep of that slimy voice in my head. Until just last night, before I drifted asleep, I heard it. A slow, methodical knocking… Coming from the attic door.