As a kid, I never actually had an attic. Though thanks to the vicarious ability of television and the powerful imagination of pre-tweens, my closet would magically transform into the perfect monster-haunting, creepy-crawler hiding space for any monster I saw on TV a few hours before bedtime.I would swear I would imagine the scraping, shuffling, dragging noises coming from above me were real and not simply in my head. Not sure if it was the Boogieman or Chucky from Child's Play or some other ghoulish fiend like that dude from the show with the lady and those poor, eight kids.
Sometimes, we can relive our childhood memories, good and bad. I've realized that is one memory I would rather forget. But apparently, that's not my luck.
