The Lantern in the Woods

It was a cold October evening, the kind that seeps through your jacket and settles in your bones. The leaves had already begun to fall, forming a rustling, uneven carpet on the narrow roadside, while the tall trees loomed above like black, skeletal watchers. Daniel, Sarah, and Imran were driving back home after a late football match, the car’s headlights slicing through the darkness in thin, narrow beams. They were laughing, joking, and trying to shake off the fatigue of the night, but the forest around them seemed unusually quiet. Then, without warning, the car shuddered violently, coughed once like a dying animal, and went completely dead. The dashboard lights went black. The engine stopped. And for a long moment, all they could hear was the wind through the trees and their own nervous breathing.

Daniel twisted the key again and again, muttering curses under his breath. Nothing. Sarah pulled her jacket tighter around herself, trying to shield from the cold, her eyes scanning the endless black road. “Great,” she said sharply. “Middle of nowhere, and your car decides to quit.” Imran leaned back in the seat, trying to joke to lighten the tension. “Relax,” he said with a forced smile. “This is exactly how horror movies start. We’re just playing our part in the story.” They all laughed, but it was hollow, brittle laughter that faded too quickly. Deep down, they all felt it—the uneasy, creeping fear of being completely alone in the forest at night.

The road stretched on, empty and silent. Not a single car passed by. The dark pressed closer around them, almost tangible. And then Sarah noticed something. A faint light flickering in the distance between the trees. Not the harsh glow of a flashlight, not the steady beam of another car. It was softer… warmer… swaying gently like an old lantern floating in the night.

At first, they argued about whether to stay in the car or investigate the light. Daniel wanted to find a nearby house or help; Sarah thought it was suspicious, but sitting still felt wrong. Imran, though joking, couldn’t deny the lure of curiosity pulling him forward. Finally, they stepped out of the car, the chill cutting through their clothes, and followed the lantern as it hovered just ahead, never closer, never further.

The forest grew darker and heavier with every step. The leaves crunched sharply under their feet, and the air carried a strange, iron-like scent, mingled with the sharp tang of damp earth. The lantern seemed alive, flickering in irregular patterns, pausing as if to make them wonder if it was truly leading them somewhere—or just teasing them. “Hello?” Daniel called out, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Can anyone help us? Our car broke down!” The lantern paused, flickered brightly once, then drifted forward again as though answering in its own quiet, mysterious way.

Time lost its meaning as they followed it. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, their nerves tightening with every step. Finally, the trees opened into a clearing, and at the far end stood a house. But it was not the kind of house anyone would ever want to live in. Its wood sagged with age and decay. The windows were cracked and blackened. The porch leaned forward as if bowing under the weight of time itself. Yet the lantern rested on the porch, glowing steadily, waiting for them.

The three froze. Every instinct screamed to turn back, yet their feet carried them forward. “Just five minutes,” Daniel whispered. “Maybe there’s a phone. Maybe someone’s home.” The others said nothing. Deep down, they already knew this place didn’t belong to the living. Together, they climbed the creaking steps and pushed open the door. The smell hit them instantly—mold, dust, and something far worse, sour and heavy, like rotting meat. The dust in the air glowed in the thin beams of their phone lights. And then they heard it: footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, slow footsteps from the floor above.

Sarah’s voice cracked as she whispered, “Who’s there?” Silence followed. Imran forced a laugh, though his hands trembled. “Rats,” he muttered, but none of them believed it. The rhythm, the weight—it was human. Too human. Against all instincts screaming in their minds, Daniel stepped onto the staircase, each step groaning under his weight. The others followed closely, hearts pounding, shadows stretching and twisting as the flickering light of the lantern seemed to dance on the walls.

At the top, a hallway stretched out before them. Doors lined either side, all closed. On the walls, smeared in dark red, were words that made their blood run cold: “DON’T FOLLOW THE LIGHT.” Sarah clutched Daniel’s arm tightly. “We need to leave. Now,” she said. But before they could turn, one of the doors creaked open slowly on its own. Inside, leaning against the far wall, was an old mirror. And in that mirror, they did not see themselves.

Three figures stood in place of their reflections—pale, bloody, eyes wide in eternal terror. It was as if the mirror reflected their deaths, their broken bodies, their horror. Imran muttered a soft curse. Sarah could barely breathe. Then the lantern’s light flared brightly behind them, though none of them held it. The hallway glowed in a sickly, unnatural light. And the footsteps returned. Faster this time. Closer. Straight toward them.

They ran, hearts pounding, down the stairs, nearly falling in panic. They reached the front door and pulled, clawed, kicked—but it slammed shut with a force that rattled the frame. And then, standing at the base of the stairs… they saw it. A figure. Tall. Thin. Its body stretched in unnatural ways. In its hand was the lantern. Its face was not a face—just stretched skin over a skull-like shape. Where its eyes should have been, there were two burning holes of light. It raised a finger to its lips, shushing them silently. And then…the lantern went out. Darkness swallowed everything.

Weeks later, police found Daniel’s car abandoned on the roadside. Empty. No trace of Daniel, Sarah, or Imran. As for the house, no one ever found it. The clearing was gone, the porch gone, the forest as if it had never held that place. And yet, some people say that on cold October nights, if you drive that road, you might see a lantern swaying between the trees. And if you do… don’t follow it. Because that light doesn’t lead to safety. It leads… home.