For the second time that night, Nela glanced out of the window of her room. Storm clouds hung low over the rooftops of the small town, and the wind swished among the branches of the trees. She felt uneasy, although she couldn’t exactly say why. Nicodemus, her older brother, sat on the bed with his notebook spread out and, as usual, pretended to be focused on his studies. However, he too glanced up at the darkening wall of sky every now and then. This was their first night at Grandpa’s house since his sudden move to hospital. Everything seemed too quiet and too old here. After dinner, when their mother had gone to bed, the siblings decided to explore the attic that had always made them afraid and curious. A creaky staircase led them up, and the torchlight trembled to the rhythm of their steps. The attic smelled of dust and old wood. In a corner, between a dusty trunk and a row of empty jars, Nela spotted something unusual – an old leather diary with a lock. They couldn’t open it; the key was missing. Nicodemus, trying to lighten the atmosphere, joked about the hidden treasures, but Nela felt a sudden surge of fear. For a moment it seemed to her that someone was watching from behind the old mirror… It was then that a quiet sound came from downstairs, as if someone was scuffling their bare feet on the dance floor. The siblings froze. The tension in the air grew with every heartbeat, and the torch suddenly went out, leaving them in complete darkness…