Ella always thought there was something magical about her grandmother's old house, hidden at the end of a winding path in the countryside. The house was crooked, with ivy clinging to its brick walls, its windows like dark eyes peering into the past. She had spent many summers there, listening to her grandmother’s stories of the old days — of distant relatives, of strange happenings, and of a light that appeared in the window at night.
"The light never goes out," her grandmother would say. "Not for as long as the house stands."
Ella didn’t understand what that meant, but she never questioned it. It wasn’t until the day her grandmother passed away that Ella found herself standing in front of the old house again, the place that had once felt so warm and full of life now empty and still. The house was silent, but there was a strange pull, a sense of needing to be there, as if something was waiting.
That first night after her grandmother's funeral, Ella lay awake in the guest room. The house creaked and groaned, settling into the cool night. Then, just before midnight, she saw it — a flicker of light in the attic window. The same light her grandmother had spoken of, the same light that had never gone out. Ella felt her heart race as she sat up in bed, staring at the window across the way.
Curiosity overtook her, and she climbed out of bed, pulling on her slippers. The floorboards squeaked under her feet as she made her way up the winding staircase to the attic door. The air was thick with dust, and the musty smell of old memories filled her lungs.
The attic was dim, but there it was — the light. A soft, golden glow, hovering by the old rocking chair that once belonged to her grandmother. Ella stepped forward, her breath catching in her throat. The rocking chair moved slightly, as if someone had just stood up.
She was not alone.
A soft voice, like her grandmother's, whispered her name. "Ella…"
Her body froze. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the dark corners of the attic, but there was no one there.
The light flickered one last time and then extinguished, leaving only the dark.
Ella stood there for a long time, the air heavy with the weight of what she couldn’t understand. But she knew one thing for sure — the light in the window wasn’t just a memory. It was something more. Something that had always been there, waiting to guide her, just as it had guided her grandmother before her.
As she turned to leave, the rocking chair creaked once more