Madeline stood at the threshold of the attic, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old wood, and the whispering grew louder, wrapping around her like a cool fog. It beckoned her, a soft murmur that seemed to call her name. 

“Maddie...” The voice was faint, but it resonated with a longing that sent shivers down her spine. Taking a deep breath, she stepped cautiously into the attic, her bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden stairs.

The attic was darker than she had anticipated, the corners swallowed by shadows. Cobwebs clung to the rafters, and old trunks sat haphazardly around the room, their surfaces coated in a thick layer of dust. In the dim light, she could just make out the shapes of forgotten memories, relics of lives once lived. An old rocking chair swayed slightly, as if it had been recently occupied, though Madeline knew she was alone.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling. “Is anyone here?”

The whispering stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that filled the attic like a heavy blanket. Madeline shivered, her instincts telling her to flee, but curiosity held her in place. What was happening? Was she really ready to confront whatever waited in the darkness?

As if in answer, a soft glow began to illuminate a corner of the attic. Madeline squinted, heart racing, as a figure slowly materialised before her. It was a girl, no older than Madeline herself, with curly hair that fell around her shoulders and a pale, translucent dress that shimmered like moonlight. Her face was a mixture of sadness and longing, framed by an ethereal glow that made her look otherworldly.

“Hello,” the girl said softly, her voice like the rustle of leaves in the wind. 

Madeline took a step back, startled. “Who are you?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m Lucy,” the girl replied, her expression gentle. “I’ve been waiting for someone to see me.”

Madeline's heart raced as she processed the presence before her. “Waiting for someone? Why?”

“Because I need help,” Lucy said, her eyes glistening like tears. “I don’t know how to move on. I’ve been trapped here since...” Her voice faltered, and a shadow of pain flickered across her delicate features. “Since the bomb fell.”

“What do you mean?” Madeline asked, feeling a mix of fear and compassion swell within her. “What happened?”

Lucy hesitated, her gaze drifting to the attic's dusty window, where the moonlight spilled in like silver threads. “It was 1915. I was playing in the garden when the zeppelin came overhead . I didn’t know what it was ; I tried to run to get inside. But then...” She shivered, as if recalling the moment, and her voice broke. “There was a loud noise, and everything went dark. I never made it Inside.”

Madeline’s heart ached for the girl standing before her. “You’re... you’re a ghost?”

Lucy nodded, her expression a mixture of sorrow and relief. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve just been so lonely. I’ve watched so many families move in and out of this house, but no one has ever seen me or heard me. I  hoped maybe you could.”

Madeline felt a swell of empathy. “I saw you in the garden. I thought I was imagining things.”

Lucy smiled softly. “You’re special, Maddie. You can see me because you’re open to it. This house holds so many stories, but mine is the one that keeps me here.”

“What do you need help with?” Madeline asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I need someone to remember me,” Lucy replied, her voice trembling with emotion. “To tell my story so I can finally find peace. I don’t want to be trapped here forever.”

Madeline felt a surge of determination wash over her. She had been struggling with her own feelings of being lost, and now here was this girl, a kindred spirit who needed her help. “I’ll help you, Lucy. I promise.”

Lucy’s face lit up with a radiant smile. “Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Madeline felt a warmth spread through her chest as she looked into Lucy’s eyes. This was not just a ghostly encounter; it was a connection that transcended time. “But how do we tell your story?”

“We’ll start here,” Lucy said, glancing around the attic. “There are things in this house—memories, mementos—that can help you understand. I’ll show you.”

As Lucy began to float gracefully from one trunk to another, Madeline followed her, curiosity bubbling within her. Together, they opened the old trunks, revealing faded photographs, yellowed letters, and forgotten toys. Each item was a piece of Lucy’s past, a fragment of the life that had been stolen from her.

With every discovery, Madeline felt a sense of purpose growing stronger. She was no longer just a girl caught in the storm of her parents' divorce; she was part of something bigger, something that needed to be remembered.

As the moonlight bathed the attic in its silvery glow, Madeline realised that she had found a friend in Lucy, a connection that would help them both navigate the shadows of their lives—one from the past, and one from the present. Together, they would uncover the secrets hidden within the walls of the house and bring Lucy’s story to light, setting both their spirits free.