The Lantern Keeper

The Lantern Keeper

In the quiet village of Black Hollow, surrounded by dense woods and blanketed in thick fog nearly year-round, there stood a lighthouse far from the sea. Locals called it “The Lantern Tower.” It hadn’t guided ships for centuries—there was no ocean for miles. Instead, it was said to keep something else at bay.

Children were told never to go near it. “The Lantern Keeper doesn’t like visitors,” their parents warned. “He lights the flame to keep the dead in their graves.”

Of course, teenagers never listened.

One such group—four friends, fresh out of high school—decided to explore the tower on Halloween night. The idea was simple: climb to the top, take photos, prove the old stories wrong.

They never made it back.

Only one boy, Thomas Greene, returned—mud-streaked, shaking, and unable to speak. When he finally recovered days later, all he said was: “The light went out.”

Since then, the townspeople have treated the tower with a reverent fear. Once a year, on Halloween, the mayor himself walks to the base of the tower and places a new oil lantern at its door. No one knows what happens to the old one, and no one asks.

Decades passed.

Then, in 2022, the tradition was broken.

Mayor Ronning passed away just two days before Halloween, and his replacement—young, practical, and skeptical—refused to participate in “superstitious nonsense.”

That night, for the first time in nearly fifty years, no lantern was placed.

And the light at the top of the tower went dark.

At first, nothing happened.

Then the fog thickened—unnaturally so. By morning, several homes at the edge of town were found abandoned, their doors open, meals still on the table. No footprints led away. Just a lingering smell of smoke and seaweed, though the ocean was nowhere near.

People whispered: “The Keeper’s gone.”

But no one knew what that meant—until the dreams began.

Villagers across Black Hollow reported visions of a man in oil-slicked clothes, his face shadowed beneath a mariner’s hat. He carried a rusted lantern and walked the streets in silence. His light never flickered. Wherever he passed, the air grew cold and heavy, like the bottom of the sea.

Some dreamers claimed he stopped and stared at them, lifting his lantern as if weighing their souls.

Then people started to vanish.

One by one. Always at night. Always from homes with mirrors cracked or broken. Always leaving behind the faint scent of brine and smoke.

By the end of November, twenty-three were gone.

In desperation, the villagers turned to Thomas Greene, now an old man living in near-solitude on the outskirts of town.

When asked what to do, he said, “Go to the tower. Light the flame again. And never let it die.”

A group was formed—five brave souls. They marched through the fog, carrying a new lantern. The woods around the tower were alive with whispers. Shadows moved just beyond sight. The tower itself loomed like a monument to something forgotten and hungry.

Inside, the stairs creaked as they ascended. The walls were damp, etched with names. None of them recognized the script.

At the top, they found the lantern holder—empty. Cold.

And something else.

A figure.

It stood in the corner, facing the wall, tall and motionless. A lantern dangled from its hand, though no flame burned.

No one moved.

Then, it turned.

Its face was covered in seaweed and rot, but its eyes were very human—and very sad.

It held out the lantern.

One man stepped forward, heart hammering, and took it. The figure said nothing—only turned back to the wall and vanished into the stone like smoke.

They lit the lantern.

The flame flickered once. Twice. Then caught.

Outside, the fog lifted just slightly. The wind died down. The village breathed again.

Since that night, the tradition has been honored without fail. No one questions it. No one forgets.

Every Halloween, a lantern is placed at the tower door.

Because everyone in Black Hollow now understands:

The Lantern Keeper does not protect them from ghosts.

He keeps something much worse inside.

And if the light ever goes out again…

It will be too late.