Someone in the loft
Dear Diary. My brother and sister have finally moved out. They now have an apartment of their own. Now it's just me and my dad living here.
Half an hour after they leave, my dad receives these text messages from Lisa:
Please can you come over Dad
Adam's seen a figure of a crouching man in the loft
There's bedding
And noises
Please come now
Hurry
Bring a torch
And ladders
He jumps up and stands over me, grinning. "Paul, are you coming? They're saying someone's in the loft!" He's happier than I've seen him for a while.
I know there's no one in the loft, but I decide to watch this debacle unfold first-hand.
"It's probably a Bulgarian", my Dad said, as we left. "Fucking Bulgarians! Stealing our jobs. You bastards!" he gleefully shouts on the way to the car.
We arrive at their building and go inside. Adam and Lisa are standing at the entrance of their apartment, giggling nervously. I can see they're enjoying the situation almost as much as my dad.
Because I'm the only sane one in this family, I know there's no one really in the loft, so I volunteer to go up there with a torch.
I climb up the ladder. The loft's big. And dark. I shine the torch around. There's nothing there. No sign of anyone.
I walk around for about ten minutes, making sure to look in all the corners. Nothing.
"Why did you think someone was there?" I ask.
My sister says, "Because Adam took a picture, and when it flashed he could see a figure crouched down. And we kept hearing moans like there was a man there... until Dad scared him off just now."
I sigh. It's all a load of bollocks.
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