The Whispering Lantern

On the edge of a quiet village, there stood an old wooden bridge that everyone avoided at night. They said it whispered when the moon was full, but no one ever stayed long enough to listen—except for a boy named Arin.

Arin wasn’t afraid of strange stories. In fact, he loved them. One clear night, he walked to the bridge with nothing but a small lantern in his hand. The wind was soft, and the river below glittered like a path of stars.

As he stepped onto the bridge, the lantern flickered.

And then… he heard it.

A voice—soft as a sigh, gentle as a lullaby.

“Help me shine again…”

Arin lifted the lantern, confused. The light inside was trembling like it wanted to speak.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

The lantern glowed brighter, casting golden circles on the wooden planks.

“I was once a star,” the voice said. “But I fell from the sky and lost my way. I cannot return without a human’s courage.”

Arin took a deep breath. “What do I need to do?”

“Walk with me,” the lantern replied.

So he did.

The bridge stretched longer than ever before—much longer than it should have. The air shimmered, and the river below turned into swirling constellations. Arin felt as though he were walking through the night sky itself.

At the center of the bridge, the lantern suddenly grew warm.

“Let me go,” it said.

Arin held it up with both hands. The lantern burst into brilliant white light, rising slowly, higher and higher, until it became a star again—bright, proud, and whole.

Before disappearing into the sky, the star spoke one last time:

“Thank you, Arin. Whenever you feel lost, look up—I will guide you.”

Arin smiled as the night returned to normal.

The bridge was just a bridge again.

But above it, a new star shined brighter than all the rest.

And from that night on, Arin never walked in darkness again.