SEASON 2 : Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
The Haunting Continues....
Chapter 3
The drive back to the mainland was a tense and silent one. The team, a group of hardened professionals, were now a group of terrified children. The whispers from the lantern room were still in their minds, a constant, low murmur of sorrow and grief.
They reached their hotel, a small, unassuming place on the outskirts of the town. They booked three rooms, a double for the team and a single for Aris. They needed space, and more importantly, they needed to be away from each other. They had all seen something they couldn't explain. They had all felt something they couldn't comprehend.
Aris sat on his bed, the silence of the hotel room a profound, jarring contrast to the turbulent presence of the lighthouse. He looked at his hands, which were still trembling. He was a scientist, a man of logic and reason, and he had just seen a ghost. A genuine, spectral entity that had spoken to him.
"This changes everything," he muttered to himself, his voice a low whisper. "Everything I thought I knew about the world is a lie."
He looked at his satchel, which contained the previous keeper's journal. He knew what he had to do. He had to read it. He had to understand what the keeper had seen. He had to understand why he had broken the light.
He opened the journal, its pages yellowed and brittle with age. The first few pages were filled with mundane entries about the weather, the sea, the passing ships. But as he turned the pages, the entries grew more frantic, more desperate. The handwriting became a frantic scrawl, and the ink was stained with what looked like tears.
Day 23. The light... it's not a light. It's a window. It shows me things. Things I'm not meant to see. I see faces in the sea. Faces that are not there.
Day 45. They’re calling my name. The sea... it’s calling my name. I hear them. They want me to join them. They want me to be one of them. I can see them. They're in the water. They're in the air. They're everywhere.
Day 78. They’re here. They’re in the light. They're in the tower. They want the light back on. They want to be seen. They want to come home. I can't let them. I have to break the light. I have to stop them. For all our sakes.
And beneath the last entry, a small, crude drawing of a face, contorted in a silent, mournful scream. It was the face they had seen in the lantern room. The face that had screamed at them.
Aris closed the journal, his hands shaking uncontrollably. The keeper hadn't been mad. He had been a prophet. He had been trying to warn them. He had been trying to save them.
He looked at his phone, a cold dread washing over him. The battery was dead. He looked at the window. The sky was black, and the rain was falling in a slow, mournful rhythm. And then, he saw it.
A flash of light from the sea. A brief, blinding pulse that illuminated the entire town. It was the light from the lighthouse. The keeper had turned it off. But someone… or something... had turned it back on.
And then, he heard a new sound. A low, guttural moan that seemed to come from the very depths of the sea. It was a chorus of voices, a symphony of sorrow, a profound, mournful lament that was now coming from the ocean itself.
And then, a new voice, a single, clear, triumphant voice, spoke from the depths of the sea.
"We… are… home."
Chapter 4
The voice was an ice pick to the spine. It was a low, guttural growl, the sound of a profound, soul-deep rage. It was the sound of a hunter that had finally found its prey.
Aris scrambled for his laptop, his hands shaking so violently that he could barely type. He had to find a way to warn his team. He had to find a way to warn the town. He had to find a way to stop them.
He looked out the window. The sea was now a boiling, churning entity, a frothing maelstrom of white-capped waves. And in the waves, he could see them. They were like shadows, like phantoms, like ghosts. They were the drowned, and they were rising from the depths of the sea.
They were coming home.
He looked at his laptop screen. It was dead. The battery was gone. He was alone. He was trapped. He was a scientist who had just witnessed the impossible, and he was about to pay the price.
A knock on the door, sharp and insistent, broke his trance. His heart pounded in his chest. He was alone. He was a scientist who had just witnessed the impossible, and he was about to pay the price.
He looked at the door. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He was a man of logic and reason, and he was about to face the impossible.
"Professor?" a voice, a low whisper, came from the other side of the door. "It's Evelyn. Open up."
Aris, his heart pounding in his chest, stumbled to the door and opened it. Evelyn stood there, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear. "You heard it too, didn't you?"
"Yes," Aris said, his voice a strained whisper. "They're here. They're in the sea. They're coming home."
"What do we do?" Evelyn asked, her voice trembling. "We have to warn the town. We have to tell them."
"They won't believe us," Aris said, his voice a grim whisper. "We're scientists. We're here to deconstruct the myths, not to prove them. They'll think we're mad."
"Then we have to stop them," Evelyn said, a grim determination settling over her. "We have to find a way to turn the light off. We have to find a way to send them back."
Aris looked at her, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and admiration. She was a woman of logic and reason, and she was about to face the impossible.
They decided to go to the police station. They would tell them everything. They would tell them about the lighthouse, about the keeper, about the drowned. They would tell them about the faces in the light. They would tell them about the whispers from the sea. They would tell them everything.
But as they walked out of the hotel, they heard it. The low, guttural moan. It was coming from the sea. It was a symphony of sorrow, a profound, mournful lament that was now coming from the ocean itself. And then, a new voice, a single, clear, triumphant voice, spoke from the depths of the sea.
"We… are… home."
And then, they saw them. They were like shadows, like phantoms, like ghosts. They were the drowned, and they were rising from the depths of the sea. They were coming home. And they were coming for them.
To Be Continued...
Stay Tuned for Season 3...Out Soon!
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Tales That Breathe at Night
I write what lingers in the dark—true horrors veiled in fiction, fiction rooted in truth. Some tales are whispered in graveyards, others buried in silence. If it gave someone nightmares, I’ll write it. Some stories remember you, too.
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Comments (2)
Yess, I was hoping when I come back to this platform I'd find the next part of the story. Thank you for continuing! I love to find old journals filled with secrets. hehe Where does your inspiration come from? I mean for the stories, they are great!
The imagery of the lighthouse light turning back on gave me chills. Absolutely gripping, I can’t wait to see what happens in Season 3!