If you came here from TikTok, you might be looking for more information on my haunted attic situation. Here’s a quick breakdown on everything that’s happened.

My fiancee and I moved into this house about nine months ago. It’s a three-bedroom single-story brick house in a small town suburb, built in 1976. Not the kind of house you typically associate with the word “haunted.”

However, something has always felt off about this place. Tapping sounds. The occasional loud slam that wakes us up in the night (we’ve always attributed these to our five cats causing havoc). But sometimes I’ll feel a random cold draft, or simply get an uneasy feeling when I’m walking through the kitchen at night.

For the most part we’ve ignored these things, dismissing them as explainable phenomena. Up until recently, it had stopped–that or we got used to it and it became background noise.

I’m a writer, so I started posting crappy book promo videos hoping to draw attention to my novel, Haunted Houses Everywhere, which I hope to get published. But one morning I was making coffee at around 4a.m. when I heard a loud banging in the garage. I started recording thinking I was about to film someone trying to break in, but the windows and garage door were locked, and all I found was the string to the attic door swinging.

I told myself my fiancee must have pulled the attic door part of the way open (no reason she would do this) and it shut on its own.

But the next day, after mustering the courage to take a peek up there and discovering a black box that was way too far out of reach, I started recording another video about my book, hoping to take advantage of the traffic I was getting with my attic situation, only to be interrupted by an aggressive, constant banging on the attic door.

I ran. It was scary.

Later, I went up again and confirmed what I knew to be true: there was no one up there. This couldn’t be explained by a squatter.

After things settled down, I finally decided to go up there and retrieve the mysterious box. It turned out to be a Christmas picnic basket that someone in the comments said was likely manufactured in the 1950s, which makes it older than this house.

Inside the box I found this horrifically creepy eyeless doll:

The box also contained a blue marble, a tiny red Christmas ornament, strips of fabric, loose change, buttons, candles, an old bottle of Avon perfume in the shape of a bell, a coin sewed up in a piece of cloth, and a journal filled front to back with a bunch of dark, creepy drawings and pages upon pages of random numbers that I think is a number-based code. Oh, and lots of dust and dirt.

Now I don’t know what to do.

Things have gotten worse since I opened this box. The slamming attic door has become a regular thing, mostly at night but sometimes in the middle of the day. The lights have started to flicker. Now we’re hearing knocking sounds coming from under the floor.

More than anything, though, it’s the doll. Its empty eye sockets always look darker than they should be, and I can’t help but wonder who took its eyes out. My fiancée said they’d be rattling around in its head if someone had simply pushed them in. Rather, someone had to pop its head off, take out the eyes, and put the head back on.

That’s freakin’ weird, man.

Now I’m conflicted. Part of me wants to begin the process of decoding this journal, looking at the folded up pieces of paper wedged into its spine, opening the back section that’s sealed shut by some kind of old buttons…because maybe it’ll provide some answers.

Or will it just make things worse? Or have I gone off the deep end and am starting to obsess over something that isn’t real? Or did one of my friends set me up for an epic yet terrifying prank and decoding the journal will merely get me Rick rolled?

I don’t know what to do.

I just want it to stop, and I’m happy to entertain any ideas. I’d also love for anyone who likes horror to check out the first chapter of my book in the blog section of this website. I still hope to get it published–maybe make enough money to move far away from this house one day.

If you read this far, I really appreciate it. I hope you have a peaceful night.

UPDATE 5/23/25

If you’ve been watching my TikToks, you’ve seen the lights flickering, and you probably saw the basket vibrating in my attic (I put a security camera up there).

You also probably know that after hearing knocking sounds in the floor, I found the doll’s eyes in the crawlspace.

With the help of my followers, we’ve been able to determine some details that are starting to help build a timeline:

1. The Avon bell perfume bottle was manufactured in 1978.
2. The doll was manufactured between 1983 and 1988.
3. The newest coin found in the basket is dated 1985. Most are from the ’60s and ’70s.
4. The journal has been available for about twenty years, though I would guess it’s about 10-15 years old.
5. The heart-shaped soapstone box I found in the crawlspace (containing the doll’s eyes) is at least from the 1980s, though a TikToker who stitched one of my videos says she has the same box and it was made in the 1930s.

After decoding the first seventeen pages of the journal, we’ve learned that the journal was likely written by a man whose wife Laura left him and took away their daughter Hannah.

The journal also includes the names Martha and Frank, along with multiple references to Shelly, who is either the doll or a girl who once owned the doll.

MORE UPDATES TO COME