The Spirits of Diwali

Anika lived for Diwali. Every year, her small hometown, Rondupura, dazzled with brilliant displays of lights and fireworks. The air was thick with the scent of marigolds, sweets, and a tapestry of laughter. This year was no less special. Anika and her cousin, Vihan, always tackled the festivities with unmatched zeal. "What do you want to try first?" asked Vihan, brushing the crumbs off his festival kurta. "Definitely the lantern festival," Anika grinned, her eyes sparkled with the reflection of dancing lights. "Let's make one that reaches the stars!" After dinner, loaded with her grandma's famous laddoos, they ventured out, clutching a pile of colorful lanterns. Anika marveled at the way they shimmered, casting a warm, comforting glow. Suddenly, her gaze fixed on a peculiar house at the edge of the street. **It remains dark** despite the surrounding illumination. "Ever been there?" Vihan nudged, following her gaze. Anika shook her head. "I don't think anyone ever has." Curiosity lured them closer. Dodging lamp-lit corners and dodging bursts of sparklers, they reached the overgrown yard. A lone diya flickered by the gate, the flame oddly hypnotic. "This place is giving me the creeps," Vihan whispered, pulling Anika's sleeve, eager to retreat. "Just a peek," she insisted, her heart pounding with a blend of trepidation and thrill. As they stepped through the gates, the world outside seemed to blur. The air cooled, and a fast chill clung to them that had nothing to do with the November night. Inside, they hesitated before a grand door, surprisingly unlocked. **It swung open with a hush**, revealing a room shrouded in fabled darkness, with the faintest hint of old incense. "Anyone there?" Anika called, her voice barely penetrating the eerie silence. Suddenly, from somewhere beyond, came a whisper as soft as it was truly there. "Welcome." Lights flickered grudgingly to life, not the fluorescent blaze one expected, but a kind of **ethereal luminescence**, chasing shadows with every sway. They huddled close, feeling the weight of watching eyes. "We shouldn't be here," said Vihan, his voice holding unease. But Anika felt compelled, like grasping the strands of an enigmatic memory. "Someone's hiding something," she murmured. Their bravery paid off. Strung on an unseen line were photographs, yellowed with age, of previous festivities. Each image captured faces, some familiar and vibrant, others shadowed — **faded like unresolved whispers**. Dance, music, ritual — snapped in the ecstasy of life and tradition. "Look here," Vihan's voice startled her, pointing at a trapdoor revealed beneath layered rugs. It didn't so much open as yielded, pulled by invisible hands. Beneath, candles burn furiously, illuminating an underground gallery. Strange inscriptions lined the walls amidst bizarre masks — eyes hollow, yet hauntingly alive. "I think these were spirits," Anika uttered, piecing fragments together. Legends whispered spirits blessed during Diwali might remain unseen till an opportune eclipse, binding them to rituals begun centuries ago. "Every Diwali," Anika continued, "these spirits mingle, unnoticed in revelry, needing a vessel to return." A hollow wind howled through their entry, extinguishing the comfort of lights above. Fear crept up their spines as shadows detached and began to form; whispers became tangible. Anika felt a warmth on her wrist. Her grandma's gold bangle spun an incredible defense, forcing these spirits to recoil from its light. "Didi, what do we do?" Vihan pleaded, scared. Anika inhaled, steely determination settling in. "We hold the light. Remember what Diwali stands for." She crossed her wrists, letting warmth surge as an impenetrable aura flared. The spirits twisted, shapes shifting till lost, caught in the gleam and returning to vivid impressions. By dawn, heart racing, they emerged. Gateway dawn caught them in ethereal rays, burning bright. That night, Rondupura celebrated, igniting the darkness within and around, albeit seemingly unaware. As the town grew silent in early morning light, Anika and Vihan shared an understanding under the sky carpeted with stars — some worlds are best left uninterrupted.