The Flicker in the Dark

"Look, Riya! More diyas! The house is going to glitter like stars," squealed Neel, his small hands balancing a precarious pile of clay lamps. Riya nodded, grinning at her little brother's excitement. Diwali was always magical, but this year, something felt different. Maybe it was the constant low hum of whispers in the neighborhood the past few evenings or perhaps it was simply her teenage skepticism. Living in the heart of their little village, the Diwala family was known for their elaborate Diwali decorations. Each year, strings of lights crisscrossed their rooms like webs. But as Neel arranged the diyas on the windowsill, a peculiar draft flickered across the flame, almost like a cold breath. "Did you feel that?" Riya shivered, clutching her shawl tighter around her. "Nah, you must be imagining things, Riya. Besides, this place is already spooky." Neel continued arranging lamps, oblivious to his sister's unease. Shrugging, Riya dismissed it, blaming her overactive imagination. But the unsettling feeling lingered like an uninvited guest. **---** That night, as their house came alive with laughter and echoes of rangoli-making and diya-lighting, Riya sat pensively on the porch. The festival fireworks burst in the sky, vibrant colors dancing joyously, stark in contrast to her disquiet. "Riya! Bhaiya wants to know if you found the missing light string," called her mother from inside, snapping her out of her thoughts. Annoyed, Riya huffed, heading towards the attic. The old, unused space was cluttered with paraphernalia from years past. Shoving aside dusty boxes, she finally spotted the long-forgotten string of lights. As she gingerly untangled them, a faded photo slipped out from a box corner, landing at her feet. A grainy image of her grandfather, a man she'd never met, smiled back at her. His eyes, oddly familiar, held a story voice couldn't capture. Just then, a faint hum swelled in the air. Riya's heart pounded as a shadow skittered along the attic walls. Suddenly, the dim bulb hanging above flickered before plunging everything into darkness. "Who's there?" she quipped, pretending bravery when she felt none. No answer. Only the unsettling silence spoken louder than words. **---** Riya stayed awake pondering, stringing together fragments, uncertain if they meant anything. She reached for the flickering lamp next to her bed, drawing warmth. At dinner, her father shared tales of their ancestral home, detailed myths of strange encounters. But Riya remained silent, observing how the stories settled uneasily with everyone, as if everyone knew more than they'd admit. "Grandfather was... well, he didn't exactly believe in superstition. Yet, there's this old tale," he began. "On the night of Diwali, shadows from the past come to reclaim light." He chuckled darkly, glancing at Riya. She only half-listened, piecing the supernatural happenings with her own fears. Was something – or someone – trying to communicate? **---** Determined, Riya decided to confront whatever loomed. With Neel asleep and everyone engaged with Diwali preparations, she slipped back into the attic. "You know those dreams you have," her mother's voice floated from behind, startling her. "Dreams?" Her mom came forward, eyes soft but laced with caution. "Yes, dreams of someone calling you. It's your grandfather, trying to protect you from something rooted deep in our family. A secret buried for years, linked to a promise unkept." Chilled, Riya listened. The strange occurrences weren't mere coincidences. The whispers were echoes from a past refusing to be silenced. "Our family carries an unresolved bond, connected to that night." Her mother held up the faded photograph. It dawned on Riya. The flecks of her night-time terrors were pieces of her grandfather's memories, passed like tradition. Was she ready to break them? **---** The climax of Diwali arrived, the festival crescendo. Riya gathered her courage and, with her mother's silent support, faced the shadow that flickered in candlelight - a manifestation of unspoken fears. With a deep breath, she held the photograph over the diya flame, her voice rising to a plea. "Whoever it is, grant them peace. Release us from this." The picture crumbled into ash, sending away the wraith. The night's quiet settled heavy yet comforting. Riya could finally sense a shift. Diwali, while brilliantly aglow, had become more than celebration. It marked liberation, a clearing of griefs hidden. All change began with an ending. **---** In the early hours, nestled beside Neel, their smiles said more than relief. "Riya, I'm glad you found your bravery," her mother whispered the next morning, wrapping her in a warm hug. This recognition shared with only candle sparklers flickering in daylight shadows.