Kamil, a first-year photography student, was given a strange assignment for Halloween night. A local portal asked him to take pictures of the Three Owls' House, a ruin on a hill above the river. It was said that on this one night the house answers questions if you bring your own light. Kamil took Basia in a witch's hat and Igor with a torch, a powerbank and an unnecessary but comforting ladder. The fog was creeping low, the children were running around with pumpkins, and someone in the alley was playing an uneasy tune on a harmonica. The gate to the hill stood ajar, though the caretaker swore in the morning that he had padlocked it with two latches. Above the portal, stone owls watched them, as if they had just breathed after a long day of silence. Inside, it smelled of paraffin, dust and something that resembled soggy paper from the library cellar. Basia put the pumpkin with the cut-out owl on the step and Kamil checked the batteries, frame and exposure time. Igor feigned courage, but lowered his voice to a whisper at the first creak of the floor. The hallway was high, cool and almost empty, with only a portrait of a girl in a green dress watching the stairs. Kamil took the first shot without a lamp, a long time, confident that he would draw something interesting out of the shadows. A massive door on the mezzanine appeared on the camera screen, with an iron knocker in the shape of an owl. He lifted his gaze and saw a plain, smooth wall, with no sign of hinges, cracks or any frame. He took a second frame; the door was back in the picture, stubbornly present like a memory that refuses to disappear. Basia, who was fond of legends, whispered that the house opened the passage only for the light carried in the hands. Then a rustling sound came from the stairs, as if someone was scattering dry leaves down the steps from inside the wall. A shadow ran from the frames of the portraits, and the spring of an old music box beeped in the wall, playing a crooked lullaby. Kamil switched on the live view; on the screen the door flashed, blinked, and after a moment stood quite clear. In fact, the air thickened and a strip of leaves moved across the floor, although the windows remained closed. They placed the pumpkin on the third step, so that the flame looked straight into where the door should be. The temperature dropped a few degrees, the breaths became silvered with steam, and a thin, whimsical veil covered the lens. Igor raised the ladder like a shield, Basia grabbed Kamil's sleeve, and he aimed the handle from the screen. The door handle trembled, even though the air stood still, and they heard three distinct knocks, as if from a deep corridor. Then, very slowly, something on the other side pressed the handle, and the lock responded with a short, metallic click.