Lena, Bartek and Zosia ride to an abandoned mill on the edge of town, where a strange light appears upstairs just as night closes in.
The first chestnut leaves spun across the road as Lena, Bartek and Zosia pedalled hard through the clearing at the end of Flower Lane. Ahead of them, the old brick mill rose out of the dusk like a broken tower, its crooked wheel standing still above a courtyard choked with weeds.
Lena had been the one to suggest they spend the last Friday of the summer holidays doing something unforgettable. Bartek, who was one year older, claimed the mill was only spooky because it was empty. Zosia said very little. She had strapped a tiny torch to her backpack and kept one hand wrapped around her plush bat as if it might fly away without her.
By the time they reached the mill, the sky had gone a bruised purple. Wind slipped through cracks in the walls and rustled the dry grass around their bikes. Lena spread out a blanket near the steps, Bartek poured tea from a thermos, and Zosia kept staring up at the shattered windows on the top floor.
“Did you see that?” she whispered.
Lena followed her gaze. For one quick second, a yellow light blinked behind the glass high above them. Not moonlight. Not a reflection. It moved, as if someone had just walked past with a lantern.
Bartek stood up so fast he nearly tipped over the thermos. “There can’t be anyone in there.”
The three of them looked at the mill, then at one another. The light flashed again, sharper this time, and from somewhere inside came a soft sound, like a step on old wood.
Lena tightened her grip on the torch. “We should check,” she said, but her voice sounded smaller than she meant it to.
The heavy door at the bottom of the mill gave a slow, protesting groan as she reached for the handle. The smell of dust and damp timber drifted out into the night. Something moved above them again, just out of sight, and then the yellow glow vanished all at once, as if it had never been there.