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Nov Jan |
In The Attic
As the temperatures plummet and a freezing rain falls from the sky, coating the grass and the leaves and the branches of the trees... With the sun long gone, and the streetlight throwing a circle of orange onto the empty street...
On this night, we heard a thumping sound. First the dog. Then Ben. Then Trudy.
Can you hear it?
she asked. I could not.
Sometimes loud, sometimes not. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Thumping, as if someone or something was tapping on the ceiling from the attic trying to get in.
Eventually even I heard it. But even then it took some spousal prodding to investigate.
When I opened the door to the utility closet, the thumping changed to clicking coming from somewhere up in the dark. Just over the wall, just beyond the rafters. Then it stopped. The hair stood up on the back of my neck.
In Nevil Shute's "On The Beach", an Australian submarine crew is sent to investigate a signal coming from a radio station in Alaska after a nuclear holocaust. They heard clicking sounds. Sometimes fast, sometimes not. Sometimes stopping, sometimes going. Sometimes it spelled out words.
When they got there, they discovered only a telegraph switch in an empty room and a window shutter swinging in the breeze, periodically bumping into the switch.
I got the step ladder and a flashlight. I stood the ladder in the narrow space between the furnace and the water heater and squeezed myself up the steps, holding onto whatever I could.
Peering over the walls into the raftered attic revealed nothing but blown-in insulation and air ducts. The clicking continued, just beyond my sight. I climbed up farther. Still I could see nothing. So I climbed yet higher, losing my balance for a moment and grabbing onto a 2x4 to stop my imminent tumble.
Then I saw it. In the gallery over the living room just beyond the air duct that goes to the back of the house, I saw a hole in the plywood roof decking -- the opening for one of the attic turbine vents.
The clicking sound sped up as the wind picked up, and I could feel the warm air from the house rising past me.
Perhaps it was the ice. Or perhaps the turbine just broke. In any event, the mystery was solved. A clicking turbine is no cause for concern, and with that explanation we could all sleep comfortable in the knowledge that nobody or nothing was tapping on the ceiling trying to get in.
We could all sleep comfortably ... except for that thumping sound.
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