The Light in the Window

Lena had always been a skeptic. Ghost stories, paranormal tales, and folklore—she dismissed them all with a wave of her hand. There was nothing in the world that couldn’t be explained by logic, she thought. So, when she moved to the small town of Briar’s Hollow, she paid no attention to the hushed whispers of the locals about the old house at the end of the street.

It was a large, Victorian mansion, long abandoned, its windows dark and dusty. The paint had peeled away long ago, and the overgrown garden had turned into a tangled mess of weeds and vines. But for Lena, it was just another piece of the town’s history. Her new home was cozy, a little small, but perfect for a fresh start after the breakup that had brought her here.

At first, the house seemed quiet. Too quiet, perhaps. The air was thick with dust, but nothing about it seemed wrong. It was just old. But as the days wore on, Lena began to notice something. Every night, at exactly 3:00 AM, she would wake up. And when she did, she could see it: a soft, flickering light in the window of the mansion across the street.

At first, she thought it was just the moonlight reflecting off a broken pane of glass, or maybe an old streetlight casting strange shadows. But each night, the light was there—steady and unmoving—until it slowly faded as the clock struck 4:00 AM.

Lena shrugged it off. “Just an old house,” she muttered to herself. But still, the light persisted.

One night, curiosity got the best of her. She decided to investigate. She pulled on her jacket, grabbed her flashlight, and made her way across the street. The mansion loomed in front of her, its dark windows staring down like eyes, watching her approach.

The light was there again, flickering gently in the top floor window. Lena’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood in front of the iron gate, its rusted bars creaking in the wind. She pushed it open, the sound of metal grinding against metal sending a shiver down her spine.

The front door of the house was slightly ajar, as though waiting for her. Lena hesitated for a moment but, drawn by the strange pull of the light, she stepped inside. The floor creaked beneath her feet as she made her way through the dust-filled entryway, the air thick with the scent of mildew and decay.

The house was silent except for the occasional groan of the wood and the distant sound of something moving in the walls. The light from the window above was still faintly visible, but now, it felt… wrong. It wasn’t the soft glow of a lamp or a candle. It was as if the light itself was alive, pulsing, flickering with an eerie energy that tugged at Lena’s very soul.

Lena moved up the staircase slowly, each step groaning under her weight, the shadows growing longer around her. She reached the top and turned down a narrow hallway, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. As she approached the room where the light had been, her breath caught in her throat.

The door was open.

She stepped inside, the air colder here, more unnatural. Her flashlight flickered, casting brief shadows on the walls. And then she saw it.

The light wasn’t coming from any lamp, nor any window. It was coming from the center of the room, hovering above the floor, a soft, glowing orb of light, pulsating with a strange, otherworldly rhythm.

Before she could react, the door slammed shut behind her, making her jump. She spun around, but there was no one there. The light continued to flicker, growing brighter, and then… a voice.

Soft at first, barely audible, it whispered her name.

“Lena.”

Her heart skipped. The voice was familiar, yet alien, distant yet close. She reached out towards the light, her hand trembling. It seemed to pull her in, as though it were calling to her. And then, the light flickered violently, flashing so bright that Lena had to shield her eyes. The voice grew louder, more insistent.

“Lena… come closer.”

Fear gripped her, but curiosity won out. She took a tentative step forward, then another, and before she knew it, she was standing directly in front of the glowing orb. She reached out, her fingers trembling, and touched it.

The world seemed to shift. The room around her faded, and a cold, oppressive darkness took its place. She felt herself falling, as if the floor had vanished beneath her feet. The whispering voice now surrounded her, louder than ever, filling her ears with a thousand voices, all speaking at once.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Lena tried to scream, but no sound came. The light had engulfed her, its pulse growing frantic, pushing her further into the darkness. Her body felt weightless, her skin cold, her mind spinning with disorienting thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a shift, and Lena found herself standing in the middle of the room again, the light now gone, replaced by nothing but darkness. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.

It was a man, pale and gaunt, with hollow eyes and a twisted smile. His face was familiar—she knew him. It was her father.

“Dad?” she whispered, taking a step back.

He stepped closer, his smile widening. “You’ve come home,” he said, his voice flat, lifeless.

Lena stumbled back, her heart hammering in her chest. “No, this isn’t real,” she whispered, shaking her head.

But the figure advanced, moving with an unnatural speed, and as he came closer, the truth hit her with terrifying clarity. This was the house. This was its doing. The house had always been waiting for someone to come. Waiting for her.

The figure reached out for her, and the air grew colder still, as the whispering voices filled the room again.

“You shouldn’t have come, Lena.”

And then everything went black.

When the townspeople arrived at the house the next morning, the door was wide open, the light still flickering from the top window. But Lena was never seen again.

The house, however, was always there, waiting for the next curious soul. The light would always return.