The rain drummed against the roof of an old house somewhere at the end of town. There was a thick silence all around, broken occasionally by the quiet clatter of drops and the monotonous hooting of a tawny owl. Passing through the overgrown grasses and the creaking gate, Anka held her breath. Her friends walked beside her: Matthew, a chatty optimist, Sara, who was not easily led off balance, and Maciek, silent and always thoughtful. The House Under the Squeaky Stairs had long been the site of jokes and urban legends. Everyone heard a different version about who used to live here and why the windows seem to glow at night. But that evening, armed with torches, a pack of friends decided to see if something unusual could really be felt inside. One by one, they stepped over the threshold. The air was different here - heavier, as if full of old whispers. When the stairs clattered underfoot, Sara rolled her eyes, pretending not to care one bit. But even she squeezed Anka's shoulder tighter when the cracked floor creaked particularly ominously. Matthew suggested a game: "Let's each go into another room and say what we feel. No panic! Then we'll tell each other what emotions each corner of this house evokes." With a little disbelief, they agreed to the idea. Anka entered the room, where dust danced in narrow streaks of light. She felt an unexpected wave of sadness, as if someone had long ago lost something here. Maciek, on the other hand, found himself in a room full of broken mirrors - and felt an anger he couldn't connect to any of his own memories. Matthew, exploring the kitchen with a rusty kettle, started laughing unexpectedly - he felt as if he was filled with joy, even though nothing funny had happened. Sara did not return for a long time. Finally, her call from the floor reached them. They all ran upstairs and their hearts began to beat faster. At the end of the cramped, dusty corridor, they saw Sara, facing a closed door, behind which a quiet wailing could be heard, sending shivers of fear but also of unknown excitement. Each of them felt something different.... But who or what was waiting on the other side of the door...?