Hollow Light

The town had never known true darkness. Streetlamps glowed softly at every corner, windows flickered with warmth, and even the river reflected light as if it were afraid to sleep. Yet, in the heart of the old district, there was one alley where lamps refused to shine. People avoided it. Children whispered stories of shadows that moved without bodies, and grown-ups simply crossed the street.

Elias had always been curious. Most people accepted what they could see. He preferred to explore what others feared. One evening, he carried a lantern and stepped into the alley. The light did not travel far; it seemed to hesitate, as though the darkness itself had weight. The air smelled of damp stone and old secrets. Every step he took echoed unnaturally.

He reached the center of the alley where a single lamp, broken and blackened, hung above a small, cracked door. Its wood was weathered, splintered, and covered in carvings that seemed older than memory. Elias ran his fingers over them. Strange warmth pulsed beneath his touch, like the heartbeat of the door.

The lantern flickered. Shadows lengthened. Something stirred. A soft whisper reached his ear. You shouldn’t be here.

Elias froze. The voice was close, yet no one was visible. He took a deep breath and whispered back, I have to see.

The door creaked open, slowly, revealing a narrow passage. Inside, the light from his lantern bent strangely, forming shapes that danced along the walls. Faces appeared for a fraction of a second—smiling, screaming, then gone. The air smelled like smoke and ash. A cold draft pressed against him, carrying a faint melody of laughter.

He stepped forward, feeling a pull in his chest, a curiosity stronger than fear. Each step made the air thicker. His own heartbeat seemed loud enough to startle him. Then he noticed the walls were lined with lanterns, dozens of them, all hollow. Some glowed faintly, but when he reached to touch one, the light vanished instantly.

A voice came again, this time from within the alley. Every light has a story. Some are borrowed, some are lost.

Elias turned, seeing a figure in the shadows. It was tall, cloaked, and without discernible features. The lanterns flickered as it moved closer. Why are you here? Elias asked. His voice trembled slightly.

Because you seek what others cannot see, the figure replied. Its words echoed strangely, both near and far. These lights are hollow because they belong to memories. Forgotten moments, lost promises, dreams that no longer breathe. You must choose: take one and bear its weight, or leave and forget.

Elias hesitated. His fingers hovered over a lantern that glowed faintly, as if calling to him. He felt the pull immediately, the tug of stories waiting to be carried. He reached and lifted it. Warmth spread through his hands. The light shimmered with faces, fleeting and sorrowful, moments of joy and grief intertwined. He realized he could hear their thoughts, feel their fears. The hollow light was alive.

Suddenly, the alley seemed smaller, the shadows pressing in. The lantern became heavier with every step. Elias understood: carrying the light meant carrying the lives that had fed it. He stumbled but did not drop it. The figure watched silently, its presence more of a weight than a comfort.

Hours passed, though it felt like moments. The alley seemed endless, stretching, bending, waiting. Elias whispered to the lantern, I will not fail you. And in response, the light pulsed brighter, revealing paths that had been hidden in darkness. Faces appeared more clearly, smiling faintly as if acknowledging his courage.

Finally, he reached the alley’s end. The figure gestured toward a small gate, leading back to the street. Go. Carry it wisely.

Elias emerged into the soft glow of normal streetlamps. The hollow lantern remained with him, lighter now but still warm with memory. He looked back. The alley was empty again, silent, as if it had never existed. Yet the warmth of the lantern reminded him that some places hide more than the eyes can see. Some lights carry the weight of forgotten worlds, and some curiosity is rewarded with both wonder and burden.

Elias walked home slowly, the lantern lighting his path, the shadows behind him whispering stories that only he could hear. And as he stepped inside, he realized he had been changed forever.