The Attic: The Thing That Learned My Name

I was fifteen when something in the attic above my bed started dragging itself toward me every night, and by the time I found the carvings in the beams, it already knew my name.

I’m telling this because this is the one story from my childhood I still can’t shake. My parents bought a tall, narrow Victorian, all charm and “original features,” but my attic bedroom felt wrong from the first night. The sound that started in the far corner wasn’t an animal, but every time I mentioned it, my parents dismissed it as nightmares or hormones.

But the sound wasn’t a dream. It paused when I pounded on the ceiling. It waited for my heartbeat to settle before moving again...

If you like slow‑burn hauntings, childhood terrors, and stories where the house itself feels hungry, press play. I still don’t sleep in rooms with crawlspaces.

Not for kids - listener discretion advised.

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Beth's Spooky Story Time is your new favourite horror podcast, best enjoyed alone with headphones. All stories are suggested or submitted by listeners. Have you had a spooky experience?

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