Literature
The Lantern in the Attic
part 1
This story is written in four parts, please read all four parts.
Every Halloween, I light a single lantern in my attic.
Not for decoration.
Not for tradition. But because of what happened years ago.
I was sixteen when I first heard the whispering.
It came from the attic, soft and rhythmic,
like someone humming a lullaby in reverse.
My parents said it was the wind.
But I knew better.
The wind doesn’t call your name.
That Halloween night, curiosity got the better of me.
I climbed the creaking stairs, lantern in hand, heart pounding like a drum.
The attic was cold
colder than the rest of the house.
And in the far corner, beneath a dusty sheet, I saw a mirror. Oval. Antique. And glowing faintly.
I approached it slowly.
My reflection looked...wrong.
My eyes were darker.
My smile was wider. And then it blinked.
I dropped the lantern.
Flames danced across the floor, but the mirror didn’t burn. Instead,
it shimmered and something stepped out.
Not a ghost. Not a
