Moose’s eyes glowed with anticipation as he crouched. This time, there would be no backing down, no running away. I held the meat out in my hand. Nanuk’s barking and growling stopped and only the rain, wind, and Spike’s distant barks sounded through the attic. Nanuk sniffed the air and his face softened. His attention turned to my hand. I threw a small piece of meat to the floor in front of him. He bowed his head, first sniffing the meat and then devouring it. He focused his attention to us again.
“It’s working,” I whispered.
“Ready?” Moose placed his hand on my shoulder.
We looked at each other and nodded. “It’s Gotcha Time,” we said in perfect unison.
“On three. Ready? One…two…THREE!”
I held the ball of meat over my head and whistled the way I had with Spike that first day at the bus stop. Nanuk followed my hand. I threw it to the far corner of the attic. Without hesitation, Nanuk’s ghost turned and ran towards the meat, just as we hoped.
Moose and I sprinted over to the trunk. “There it is, Moose!”
“No time to look at it, grab it!” Moose thundered.
I scurried behind the trunk, secured the vial, and handed it over to Moose. We started to run towards the stairs. Before we took our third step, Nanuk’s howling shook the entire house. His rage intensified as if he knew he’d been tricked. He was a few paces away from the stairs and was approaching us slowly, his head down and growl intensifying with each step.
“We have the golden vial!” I yelled. “Why isn’t the spell broken?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never gotten this far before.” Moose crouched, his eyes glowing brighter. A deep growl echoed like that of a lion. This was indeed the final showdown. Winner take all. Understanding what was about to happen, Moose yelled at Nanuk, “I did what you asked of me, Mr. Henderson! What more do you want?!”
Nanuk now blocked the attic ladder down towards the safety of the house. Moose handed the golden vial back to me. He looked at me wistfully for a moment as if to say thank you for everything. He turned to face Nanuk, this time on all fours. Nanuk’s barks grew louder. His teeth appeared sharper. The two moved closer to each other, nearly nose to nose. As Nanuk crouched and leapt towards Moose, a flash of black barreled into Nanuk’s body, sending him crashing into the wall. Spike! Nanuk righted himself, towering over him. The two faced off, each growling and baring their teeth. Their bodies collided into each other as they rolled towards the far corner of the attic.
This was our chance. Moose grabbed me by my shoulder and shoved me past the fighting dogs and down the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Nanuk standing over Spike’s body. Spike let out a piercing cry. When our bodies hit the floor below, I looked up as Spike was thrown across the attic above. Moose reached up and started to fold the ladder. Before it closed completely, Spike’s body came tumbling out of the entry and slammed onto the carpet – battered, bloodied, and motionless.
We both sat on the carpet looking over Spike as we struggled to catch our breath and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Beside me sat the golden vial of milk, shining brightly. “Did we do it?” I asked breathing heavily. “Do you feel different?”
Moose surveyed himself. “I don’t feel any different. My feline senses are still on high alert. I can still feel the presence of Nanuk’s ghost.”
“Where did we go wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Moose sounded defeated.
Just then, Spike let out a whimper. I looked him over. Concern crept into me. “He doesn’t look good, does he?” I knelt down next to him and with my sleeve already wet from being inside Nanuk’s body, I wiped the blood from Spike’s mouth. Tears flowed from my eyes as I embraced him, not knowing if he would survive. With my head on his chest, I could hear his struggle in every breath.
Moose joined me. Reaching over, he grabbed the golden vial of milk and placed it next to Spike’s head. He lifted his head off the floor. Moose poured some into Spike’s bloodied mouth. I scratched Spike’s fur encouraging him to drink. I looked up at Moose, “I hope he’s going to be…”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Sitting up against the wall was Moose. Not the ten-year-old Moose I’d met just a few days ago, but a much older fourteen-year-old Moose. The red and black flannel he was wearing now fit tightly and the cuffs rode up to his elbows. His jeans now looked like a long pair of shorts. His toes ripped through his canvas, already tattered, shoes.
He sat there and looked down at his body in amazement. In a deep, raspy voice, he uttered, “It’s working.” His eyes widened not recognizing his own voice which had taken on a deeper tone. He tried it out again, “The spell. It’s breaking. We did it!” We both jumped to our feet. R-I-I-I-P. Moose’s flannel tore right down the back.
As we stood side by side, Moose was even taller now. “Wow, Moose. You’re…you’re…old!”
“Oh yeah?” he countered. “It’s better than that ooze dripping all over you.”
I looked down at the pinkish ooze on my arms and shirt. My hands ran through the slop in my hair. “I think some got into my mouth.” I stuck out my tongue. “Bleh.” We both started laughing.
Regardless of the mess that was all over me, Moose picked me up and spun me around in circles — careful not to step on Spike. “We did it. I knew today was the day!”
Just then, there was a scratching coming from the attic. We looked at each other in shock. If the spell was broken, then why was Nanuk fighting to get out of the attic?
Chapter Fourteen
Reunion
The scratching turned into banging. We looked at each other in bewilderment. Nanuk? Suddenly, a voice called out, “Samson? Are you there?”
“Now, Nanuk can talk?” Moose asked in disbelief.
“No, man. That’s my mother!”
Moose reached up and pulled down the ladder. At the opening inside the attic, my mother stood there with tears in her eyes! “Mom!” I bolted up the ladder and into her arms.
She hugged me tightly. “I saw what you did. You were so brave.”
“You saw?”
“Yes. Who do you think was trying to push you out of Nanuk’s mouth? You and your friend were very brave.” She gave me another hug. “We still have one problem.”
“Uh-oh. What’s that?” I looked at Moose who had joined us back in the attic.
“We still have a lot of cleaning up to do,” Mom stated as she pointed to the side of the attic where the trunk lay.
My mouth dropped open in astonishment. The attic was full of people. I looked up at Moose. He was smiling from ear to ear. “I guess I should introduce you to everyone. First of all, hello, Mrs. O’Keefe. I’m Norman. My friends call me Moose.” With that, he put his arm around my shoulders and shuffled through the crowd. “These people here are the Johnsons and this is their brave daughter, Sarah. Next, we have Mrs. Singh, Monica and Mandy. And finally, we have the Sullivan family, and this guy right here is Freddy.” Exhaling deeply, Moose addressed everyone in the attic making sure his now human eyes met theirs, “I can’t express how sorry I am for what I’ve done. I’m ashamed that my actions affected each and every one of you.” Then, as if he could see something in the distance of the attic, he added, “And to you, Mr. Henderson.” He smiled as tears welled in his eyes, “And, of course, to you too, Nanuk.”
“What about us?”
Norman froze in his tracks, recognizing the voice although he hadn’t heard it in a long time. He turned. “Mom! Dad!” He raced right into their arms. Tears flowed freely from all three of them.
“Norman, we are so proud of you!” Mr. Oleadertag cried.
Just then a dog barked from behind them. Everyone stiffened but me. I knew who it was. It was Spike, and he was healed. I knelt down, and he darted towards me licking my face and letting me scratch behind his ears. “May I?” Moose stood behind us. He extended his hand out to Spike. Ignoring his hand, Spike jumped into his arms and showered him with kisses. I guess he and Moose were al
so cool.
I looked back at Mom. She walked over to Spike who was now by my side. “I saw what he did too. So brave,” she said patting the top of his head. “I’m more than happy to say that he’s definitely part of our family.” Mom smiled from ear to ear while holding me close. I was never going to let go.
Epilogue
It’s been a few years, since the events in the old Henderson house. Scott and Mom married and as a stepdad, I have to say he’s alright. My mother is happy. The job he moved out for turned out to be a good deal for us. He was quickly promoted and runs the company. My mother is doing great as a photographer. She’s even won some contests and stuff like that. It’s hard to take a bad picture on the shores of San Diego. She’s well sought after and has been booked for endless events. We tried several times to explain what happened that day in the attic, but Scott laughs it off. He doesn’t doubt that something went on, but he doesn’t believe it all. Truth be told, it is a tough story to swallow. So, Mom and I keep it as our secret.
All the families that used to live in the old Henderson house relocated. After the events of the attic, they were different people too. Turns out they didn’t want the house back. Who would blame them? While they were swept away, Moose used the internet to arrange for movers to store all their stuff before the next family moved in. They were grateful and surprisingly forgiving for the events in the attic.
Nathaniel went on to do some great things. With lots of confidence after facing off against those bullies on the bus, he convinced his overprotective parents to sign him up for karate. He’s now a blackbelt, if you could believe that. He and I have remained friends and spend lots of time combing through comic books. He’s even started writing and illustrating one based on what happened in the attic. It’s pretty good, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t partial to the storyline. He never did get rid of those glasses, he says that they’re his trademark.
Norman? He never did go back to being called by his real name. Obviously, he and his parents had a lot of catching up to do. With Scott and Mom’s help, they cleaned up their yard and the inside of the house. It turns out that one of the advantages of living alone all those years is that no one is badgering you to clean up after yourself. Our families had grown close and our parents spend a lot of time together barbequing or going out. I guess such a crazy experience has a way of bringing people together. Moose and I remain close. We’ve spent countless hours up in the treehouse. It’s safe to say that I don’t have any problems climbing that rickety old ladder anymore. Sometimes, we look out of that window and stare at the attic of my house. The stories never get old and we talk about the “what ifs” of that day. We laugh out loud, but there are times when we just sit in silence. That day changed us. Deep down, we are thankful for Mr. Henderson and Nanuk.
Over the last year or so, we haven’t hung out as often as we used to. Moose is nearly done with high school. He had a lot of catching up to do which he managed with tutors and summer school. That night gave him a new lease on life, and he wasn’t wasting it. It turns out that even though he was transformed back into a human, he didn’t lose all his quickness and strength. He has several scholarship offers from colleges for wrestling. Who wouldn’t want a state champion?
Moose and Nathaniel weren’t the only ones changed by what happened in the attic. After Nanuk tried to devour me, it turns out that some of his ectoplasmic ooze did get into my mouth as well as every other hole on my face. I’ve not felt myself since those events in the attic. Most nights, especially when the moon is full, Spike and I like to sit on the porch, let my new senses take in the world around us, and sniff the night air. I never get the urge to chase a car like old Spike does, but something inside me sure enjoys a game of catch.
Everyone was right. Strange things certainly happened in this house. But without these strange things, my first days here wouldn’t have been so much of an adventure and this house wouldn’t have felt like a home so quickly.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank all the people who had to hear about the attic for the past twenty years; my family, friends, and students. To Lisa, Megan, Andrea, and Avery, thank you for editing this complete mess of a book and making it something at the very least – readable. Next, to Erica, my first reader from my intended audience. Thank you for your feedback. It was really helpful! Finally, to Veronica, my wife and bestie, thank you for your patience and listening to this story and others, and allowing me to bounce ideas off of you. Thank you for encouraging me to keep at it.
About the Author
Born in New York and raised on Long Island, Solomon Petchers has an affinity for scary stories where friends come together to defeat whatever bad guy or entity they face. It’s no wonder that Stephen King is his favorite author. After getting his teaching degree, he moved to Southern California, where he’s spent all of his 23-year career in education. Currently, Solomon lives in Murrieta, California with his wife, Veronica, and three amazing children. When he’s not writing or teaching, Solomon spends time with family and going on dates with his wife. Their choice of movie? Anything suspenseful or outright scary!
You can visit him at: www.solomonpetchers.com
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