I wasn’t always a claustrophobe. I could go into closets or small rooms without feeling afraid. All that changed one evening when I was nine. I went into the attic to look for a pair of ice skates. I had gotten them as a birthday gift a year earlier, but back then they had been too big. I figured I’d grown enough to make them fit now. I knew where Mom had stored the skates, so as soon as dinner was over, I went up to find them. And find them I did.

While I was in the attic, I decided to look out into the night sky, which I love to do. This evening, there were so many clouds, the moon and stars couldn’t be seen. So after a few minutes, I decided to go back downstairs. When I was a few steps from the door, I heard a “click” like the turn of a key, and when I tried to leave, the door wouldn’t open. I knew my older brother Norman had locked it. We’d had a fight earlier in the day, and I’d whipped his butt. Now he was getting revenge.

I rattled the door and shouted, but then realized my parents were out of the house. Norman was the only one who could hear me, and he wouldn’t help. I went back to the attic window and looked out again. The clouds had thickened. In the distance came lightning flashes and the rumble of thunder. I went back to the door and pulled on it hard, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Let me out of here, Norman, you scumbag!” I yelled and pulled on the door some more.

The thunder grew louder and the lightning became brighter as the storm closed in. I pounded on the door and threatened to tear Norman’s head off. Then a streak of lightning flashed right outside the window followed by a blast of thunder that knocked me to my knees. The one light went out, leaving the attic in almost total darkness. There was just enough light to see the shapes of the things stored there. Things like clothes, mattresses, a bicycle, a chest of drawers, and lots of bird cages. With the light out, I sat on the floor with my back against the door. I closed my eyes and must have fallen asleep because when I opened them again, the storm had weakened. And that’s when I saw that the things in the attic had moved closer to me. Things like a bookshelf and the bicycle that had been clear across the room were now just a few feet away.

I began to tremble and sweat. And then — I could almost swear to this — I actually saw the things move. They edged ahead slowly, an inch here, an inch there. If they continued to do this, they would have me surrounded and sealed up almost as tightly as a coffin.

My one hope was the door. Maybe by now, Norman had opened it. I scooted up, still facing the approaching attic creatures. I reached behind me with my hand and twisted the knob one way and then the other once, twice. The door remained shut. I was still locked in.

As I cursed Norman, a final flash of lightning illuminated the entire attic like a searchlight. And that’s when I saw the clown. He hovered over me with his hideous green and white face and bulbous nose. While his mouth curled into a maniacal grin, he stared at me with demon-like eyes. Spinning around, I clawed at the door and screamed with every ounce of energy I could muster. I didn’t dare turn around. If I did, that infernal clown would be there, ready to put his hands around my neck. Still screaming, I closed my eyes again and must have fainted, because the next thing I knew I was in my own bed with my mother stroking my hair and kissing my cheek.

I only went into the attic one more time after that. Both Mom and Dad were with me. They showed me that all the old stuff up there hadn’t moved. And that clown was just a Halloween costume hung on a nail next to the door. The storm, they said, made me imagine that I was in danger when I really wasn’t.

In my mind, I know they are right, but somehow that doesn’t matter. My terror that night; my hell-screaming, raw-gut terror, was real and didn’t leave when the storm did. It’s here even now, looking over my shoulder like…like…an evil clown.