Hey, its me... again.

I guess this is one way to find out how many voicemails your phone can handle.

I know, I know, this is like the fourth time I've called since I left home, but I don't know, I. I guess I'm just anxious.

Anxious about the drive, anxious about us, anxious about, oh, this house and what else might be awaiting me there?

I'm not entirely sure why she left it to me.

I didn't even know her that well.

Anyway, I should be there soon.

Hopefully I won't run into any contractors.

I guess they cleaned it out pretty good, so I'll see what kind of bones it has.

If I don't hear from you, I will call you in the morning.

Hello?

Hello?

Hey.

I figured I'd try again, but just realized what time it is there, And you are clearly at work.

I hope the students aren't giving you a hard time.

I got settled in okay.

The house is beautiful.

I feel like I've stepped back in time.

Its a lot bigger than I thought.

The contractors did a good job of cleaning it out, and the realtor should be by on Monday.

I found all of her old books in the attic.

A lot of classics, and some are definitely worth some money.

I don't know, I keep thinking I've been here before but can't quite remember.

It's weird because I know I've never been here.

I don't know what I'm trying to say.

I'm just tired, I guess.

We've moved into a new house.

It's beautiful.

It's very large and feels especially so with just the three of us moving in.

Well, four, I guess, with Sally our maid joining us... The house belongs to my great aunt.

Or belonged, I should say.

She actually passed away in this very house.

They found her in the attic.

Quite spooky.

Apparently, she left the house to me in her will.

But mother says that because I'm unbetrothed, I shouldn't live here alone, lest I end up an old spinster.

Anyway, the house is quite captivating, and I can only imagine what life will be like in such a majestic place.

Of course.

You're still not picking up, and I'm starting to feel like I'm screaming into the void.

Did I tell you about this photograph I found in the box in the attic?

I think it's of my great aunt.

I look like her.

Like a lot like her.

I have vague memories of her from when I was a child, and she was an odd duck, I can tell you that.

But I think I remember liking her, probably because she was so odd.

I don't think I've spoken to her as an adult, I don't know.

It just feels like she would have understood me.

September 14th, 1949.

Last night I awoke to the sound of music coming from the attic.

Against my better judgment, I followed it and found the most beautiful gramophone.

Sally must have left it playing before she went to bed.

The music moved me so I could not help but sway to it.

I swayed for what felt like hours.

Just me and the music.

Alone in the attic.

Last night I went back up to the attic.

I thought I heard music playing again, but it must have been the echoes of the house playing tricks on me because when I opened up the attic door, it was only silence that greeted me.

But something strange did catch my eye.

From a pile of boxes I pulled out the most particular portrait of a woman who I couldn't help but notice bore a striking resemblance to me.

The woman must be my great aunt.

She fits the description, though I've never met her.

At least I don't think I have.

There's something about the portrait.

It's like she knows I'm looking at her.

I'm so exhausted.

I must sl- Are you [____] kidding me?

(muttering to self) Shut up!

(muttering to self) Theres something within the house.

Or maybe it is the house?

I'm not feeling myself.

Maybe this is how I've always been?

Why don't you ever pick up the phone when I'm calling you?

I knew you didn't love me you liar!

Why don't you love me?

You don't have to be afraid of me.

I'm not afraid.

Not anymore.

Pick up the phone.

Hello?

I'm finding it hard to sleep again.

The music from the attic.

Or is it my dreams?

Keeps me awake at night.

But something about it has changed.

I don't know why, but it feels more taunting now.

No one in the house ever hears it.

Mother and father have become too preoccupied with their upcoming trip to spend any time listening to me anyway.

And I can't stop thinking about the portrait I found.

Have I mentioned it already?

It feels like her gaze follows me into every room I enter.

Watching my every move.

She wants to tell me something, I know it.

I keep asking mother how she died, but she doesn't divulge the details.

Journal: October 24th Anna: Theres something in the house.

Journal: The house feels colder than ever.

Anna: Why aren't you picking up the phone?

Journal: I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

Anna: Come on, come on, pick up the phone.

Pick up the phone.

Journal: I want to leave, but I feel unable.

Anna: I'm starting to feel like screaming into the void.

Journal: I feel stuck.

Anna: Sometimes I don't feel like I'm alone.

Journal: There is something in the house with us.

Anna: Why aren't you picking up the phone?

Journal: There is something in the house with you.

Anna: The music wont stop.

Why wont the music stop?

Journal: Tap tap tap [voices converge] Did you hear that?

Tap tap tap.

Stop stop stop stop.

Make the music stop.

Stay away from me!

Journal: Mother and father have not returned.

I have not heard from them in months.

I haven't seen Sally in weeks.

And my aunt?

She's finally gone to.

It's just me now.

The lone finally alone with the music.