Episode summary
The neighbors knew the stories of the old house. They knew the rumors. Everyone agreed that the house was haunted.
T.E.A. Time is hosted by English teacher Tayvin Bayless. Read the full transcript.
Hey there, and welcome to T.E.A. Time with Tayvin Bayless. In this episode, I will be reading a story for you. The story is called “The Cradle in the Attic” written by Maren Hansen. This is a bit of a mysterious and spooky story, and I’m excited to share it with you. So, let’s get started.
When a SOLD sign appeared in front of the run-down house on the corner of Monroe and 6th Street, the town of Avery, Ohio was abuzz with gossip. The house had been empty for decades. Hardly anyone remembered there ever being an occupant. Because of the long absence of care, the walls of the house were crooked, several windows were missing, and the porch looked like it was about to fall in on itself. Everyone agreed that the house was haunted.
All of the neighbors were eager to see who had bought the property. Surely they had to be crazy to purchase a house so damaged.
Tiffany and Scott Jacobson were, in fact, quite normal. Tiffany had seen the old house online and fallen instantly in love with it. She loved to renovate old furniture and the idea of doing the same to an entire house was an exciting idea. Scott had done very well in his career as a computer specialist, rising to manager of the company within a few short years. But despite loving very different things, the couple loved each other very much and were excited to begin a new chapter of their lives.
After visiting the old house in person, the Jacobson’s decided that it would be best for them to rent somewhere in town before moving in their possessions. The house had many problems that prevented them from living in it right away. Parts of the roof had caved in, the walls needed support, some of the flooring needed to be replaced, and the plumbing had leaked into the basement. Scott called an agency to come fix the roof, a company to fix the walls and floors, and a plumber. Soon the air was filled with the sound of hammering and sawing and the chatter of the many construction men in orange vests.
Once the major structural problems were fixed, Tiffany and Scott set about painting the various rooms. There was a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a study on the ground level, and three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Tiffany was very excited about the stained- glass window in the front entryway. Scott liked the small balcony that led off of the master bedroom. Together, they began to make the house their own.
A couple of months after the SOLD sign appeared in the front yard, the neighbors saw a moving van parked in the driveway and watched as the young couple began to unpack their earthly possessions.
Tiffany filled the living room and study with all of the many pieces of furniture she had restored over the years: couches, armchairs, a dresser, and an old mirror. Scott unpacked his computers and comic books and claimed one of the empty upstairs rooms as his own. It wasn’t long before they both felt very settled in their new house.
One day, Scott noticed a trapdoor in the ceiling of his “nerd room”, as Tiffany called it. The trapdoor was small and painted to match the ceiling, which is why he hadn’t noticed it before. He went to the shed to grab a ladder and flashlight, then called Tiffany to join him.
The trapdoor opened and a cloud of dust fell down. A chill wind rattled through the drafty house and shook the trees outside.
Scott and Tiffany climbed the ladder to find a tiny attic at the top of the house. It was empty except for one thing. The light of Tiffany’s flashlight fell on something small and wooden.
It was an old fashioned cradle, with a carved headboard and footboard of roses and leaves. Two curved pieces of wood at the bottom served as the rockers. A layer of dust covered every inch of it.
Scott felt the wind brush against his neck and he shivered. There was something he did not like about the cradle that he could not quite say. But Tiffany exclaimed that it was beautiful and insisted that they carry it downstairs so that she could get a better look at it.
Down on the front lawn, in the daylight, Tiffany wiped away the dust of unknown years with an old rag. The old cradle proved to be in excellent condition. Tiffany excitedly told Scott that it was clearly vintage, and must have been left there for at least a century. These types of cradles were meant to last and had not been produced in a very long time.
Once the cradle was clean, Tiffany decided to place it in the last spare bedroom. She had painted this room very specially in a pale yellow color, with gauzy curtains at the window. The cradle stood in the middle of the room, and she often stood in the doorway, looking longingly back at it. She told Scott over dinner several times that she was grateful they had found the attic and the cradle. She also gave him a special look with a knowing smile that suggested she wanted something to fill the cradle.
Scott loved his wife. He loved that she had a passion for old things. He loved that she wanted to start a family as much as he did. But he could not shake the feeling that there was something very, very wrong about the cradle. It was affecting his wife in a way that nothing ever had before. Every time he walked by the spare bedroom, he found Tiffany either standing in the doorway looking at it, or kneeling by its side, caressing the headboard. She spent more and more time by the cradle, abandoning everything else. She even stopped eating and sleeping.
Then, one night, Tiffany shook Scott awake. Her eyes were wild and her hair surrounded her head like thistle down.
“Can’t you hear it?” she whispered, looking over her shoulder towards the hallway and the spare room where the cradle stood.
“Hear what?” Scott asked, instantly alert.
“Can’t you hear it crying?” Tiffany said, her eyes wide in the darkness.
Scott strained his ears. He heard nothing but the whispering of the wind through the trees and the creakings of the old house. He told Tiffany so, but she shook her head and grabbed his hand.
She took him to the room where the old cradle from the attic stood. Together, they stood over it in the moonlight, and in the darkness, Scott heard the faint wailing of a tiny baby echo through the night.
For the next two weeks, the neighbors had one subject and one subject alone that was the topic of their gossip. It seemed that the old house on the corner of 6th and Monroe was finally free of the army of police officers that had mobbed it for the last few days. The police officers had left, but one mystery remained: where were Tiffany and Scott Jacobson? They had disappeared from their house in the middle of the night, l eft their possessions, their car, even the cat. They seem to have vanished from existence.
The neighbors knew the stories of the old house. They knew the rumors. And so none of them were remotely surprised to find that the only thing the police had found that seemed out of place in the house was an old-fashioned cradle, covered in dust.
Well, there you have it. How did you like the story? What do you think happened to the family? If you have any questions or comments send me a message through Anchor, on Twitter, or find me on italki and I’ll try to respond as quickly as possible. If you’d like to read along with the audio of this episode, you can find a link to the transcript in the episode description or on my Twitter page. Until next time. Have a wonderful day.
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