AOTP Campfire Tales Ep.3

Accounts of the Paranormal's Campfire Tales 

The Music Box and the Ghost in the Attic

A family moves into an old farmhouse, only to discover a sinister presence tied to a mysterious music box and their daughter's new 'friend'.

Paranormal and mystery short stories told around the campfire, straight from our Accounts of the Paranormal YouTube channel! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9zKn4LcW3VJROe1-l9EAcQ

If you have an account to share and would like to be a guest on the show, email me at show@accountsoftheparanormal.com and tell me what you saw!

Accounts of the Paranormal -

Creator/Producer/Host: Gino Barreto

WEBSITE: https://accountsoftheparanormal.com/ 

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Accounts of the Paranormal (theme song) 

Written by: Gino Barreto / Produced by: Kobe Ofei

All music produced by: 

Kobe Ofei https://www.fiverr.com/kobeofei 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Welcome to Accounts of the Paranormal's Campfire Tales. I'm Julia, your host and guide into chilling tales of the paranormal. Join us around the campfire for tonight's story. The farmhouse had been empty for decades. It sat alone at the end of a dirt road, its paint peeling, its windows clouded with dust, and its porch sagging just enough to suggest something inside was tired of waiting. When the Harper family first arrived, the silence felt thick, like stepping into a room where a conversation had just stopped. Perfect, Mark said, forcing a smile as he unloaded boxes. Quiet and peaceful. Jessica didn't answer. She was watching their daughter. Three year old Leela stood at the edge of the yard, staring up at the house as if she recognized it. The first night passed without incident. The second did not. Mommy, Leela said at breakfast, swinging her legs beneath the table. Rory says we have to go upstairs today. Jessica froze. Who's Rory? My friend, Leela said simply. She lives here. Mark chuckled. Imaginary friend already? That didn't take long. But Jessica noticed something strange. Leela wasn't pretending, and she wasn't smiling or playful. She was matter of fact, certain. Where does Rory live? Jessica asked. Leela pointed upward. The attic. They didn't plan to go up there right away. The attic door was tucked at the end of a narrow hallway, warped with age. When Mark tried the handle it stuck for a moment, then gave with a loud creak that echoed through the house. Dust filled the air like smoke. Old furniture lay draped in yellowed sheets, a cracked mirror leaned against the wall, and in the far corner a small wooden music box. Rory says that one, Leela whispered. Jessica hadn't heard anyone else speak. Sweetie, no one said she did, Leela insisted, her eyes fixed on the box. She wants me to play it. Mark shrugged. It's harmless. He picked it up, brushed off the dust, and handed it to Leela. The moment she opened it, the melody began, soft, out of tune, and wrong. And it wasn't just the notes, it was the way the sound seemed to drift through the room, as if it didn't come from the box at all. Leela smiled, but behind her something shifted beneath one of the covered shapes. That night Jessica woke to laughter, not Leela's, it was higher, thinner, echoing faintly through the hallway. Jessica, Mark whispered, do you hear that? The laughter stopped. Then footsteps, light, quick, running down the hall toward Leela's room. They rushed in. Leela was standing in her crib, not crying, not scared, just watching something in front of her. Hi, Rory, she said softly. Jessica's blood ran cold. There's no one there, she said, her voice shaking, but Leela frowned. She's right there, mommy. Then she tilted her head slightly, as if listening. She says you shouldn't ignore her. Over the next few days the house changed, doors slammed without warning, and the attic light flickered on by itself, and always that faint, distant music, sometimes when the box was closed, sometimes when it wasn't even in the room. Mark tried to laugh it off, old house, drafts, loose wiring, until the night he saw it. He had gone upstairs to put the music box back. Enough is enough, he muttered, setting it in the attic corner. As he turned to leave, the melody started again, behind him. He froze. Slowly he looked back. The box was still closed, but something else stood beside it. A small shape, a child, too still, too pale, its head tilted sharply to one side, and its mouth stretched into a grin that was far too wide. Mark stumbled back, slamming the attic door shut. The music didn't stop. That night the laughter returned, louder, closer. Jessica woke to a sound she would never forget, whispering, right beside her ear. She doesn't belong to you. She shot upright. Mark, did you but Mark was already awake, because they could both hear it now. From Leela's room. A lullaby, but not from the music box, a voice, thin, broken, singing. They ran down the hall, the door creaked open, and what they saw? Leela stood in her crib again, but this time she wasn't alone. Something stood behind her, not fully visible, just shapes, shadows, too many angles where there should be none, and hands, long, grey hands reaching around her, brushing her cheeks. Leela giggled. She says she's my real mommy now. Jessica screamed and rushed forward, grabbing Leela. The moment she pulled her away, the hands snapped back. The shadow twisted violently, collapsing into itself with a shriek that rattled the walls. The music box upstairs slammed open. The melody screamed through the house. Mark grabbed it, racing down the stairs. Make it stop, Jessica cried. I can't. The tune grew louder, faster, until it sounded like something breaking. Then silence. The box snapped shut, and everything stopped. They left the next morning, didn't pack everything, and didn't look back. Then, weeks later, in their new home, Jessica tucked Leela into bed. No more Rory, she said gently. Okay? Leela smiled sleepily. Okay. Jessica kissed her forehead and turned off the light. As she reached the door, a soft sound drifted from the corner of the room, a familiar melody, slow, off key. Jessica's breath caught. She turned. In the shadows, a small wooden music box sat open, and beside it, a pale child stood waiting, smiling. And Leela, half asleep, whispered into the dark, Hi Rory. Thanks for watching. In addition to Campfire Tales, you can catch Accounts of the Paranormal Podcast episodes right here on our channel, or just about anywhere you get podcasts, or accounts of the paranormal.com, where you can access full episodes and links to all our socials. And while you're there, be sure to sign up for our blog so you never miss show info or other announcements. I'll see you next time.