The Lantern Man

In Garrison Hollow, the Lantern Man does not just take you; he devours your soul in a way that leaves no trace, not even in the memory of those who loved you.

Garrison Hollow was once a lively village, settled by families seeking a quiet life. But the forest nearby had stories—the locals called it “The Hunger” for its reputation of taking lives. They claimed the soil had an insatiable thirst for the living, that the ground would open up and take you, pulling your soul into its roots to satisfy its ancient curse. The villagers didn’t believe the warnings at first. But they learned too late that the forest does not hunger for flesh—it hungers for memories, for your very spirit.

The first to disappear was little Jacob Pierce, a boy of seven, whose mother had only looked away for a moment. Jacob had been given an old lantern, a family heirloom, to fetch firewood one cold autumn night. But he never returned. His mother found only the lantern at the cemetery gate, its dim flame flickering in the rain. Search parties combed the forest for days, but it was as if Jacob had vanished from the very fabric of reality. His mother wept and begged, but soon she, too, went silent, the light in her eyes dulling as if her very memory of him had been ripped away.

That was when they realized what the Lantern Man wanted. Not your life, but your memory, the essence of your soul, devoured so completely that no one would even remember you’d ever existed.

Years passed, but the legend grew. Each time someone vanished, the mist would descend, thick and silencing, filling the town with a cold that seemed to chill even the soul. And each time, the villagers would find a lantern burning at the cemetery gate, its dim, wavering light the only reminder that someone—a soul—had been stolen. No one dared venture out after dark, and those who stayed in Garrison Hollow knew one unbreakable rule: if you hear your name in the night, you must never, ever answer.

But people never learn, do they?

Decades later, sixteen-year-old Caleb Anderson came to Garrison Hollow to live with his grandmother after his parents’ deaths. She tried to warn him about the Lantern Man, but he thought it was just the ramblings of an old woman. A story to frighten children. Until one night, he heard it.

It was late—long past midnight. Caleb was lying in bed when a voice drifted to him through the open window. Soft, gentle, yet so distinct it was like a whisper in his very mind.

“Caleb…”

The voice was his mother’s.

Caleb bolted up, staring at the open window, heart pounding. His mother was dead—he knew she was dead—but the voice was unmistakable. The same soft tone, the same loving inflection.

“Caleb… help me…”

The words snaked into his mind, filling him with dread and an aching sense of love. Against his better judgment, he grabbed his flashlight and slipped out into the cold night air, heart racing as he crept towards the forest, where he saw it—a faint light flickering just beyond the cemetery gate.

“Mom?” he called, voice trembling. The light seemed to sway, calling him closer. As he neared, he saw a figure standing just within the shadows. The woman wore his mother’s dress, her hair cascading down her shoulders, but her eyes—they were empty, like twin pits that sucked in the very light around them.

“Come closer, Caleb,” she whispered, her mouth twisting into a smile that didn’t belong on his mother’s face. “Come to me…”

Caleb stepped back, fear constricting his throat. But before he could turn, he saw them—lanterns. Dozens of them, stretching beyond the trees, each one burning softly in the mist, flickering with an unnatural, sickly glow. And with each lantern, he felt something pull at his mind—a thought, a memory, his very sense of self, tugged at by the Lantern Man’s light.

“Don’t run,” his mother’s voice called, but it had changed, becoming colder, hollow, echoing as if spoken by something other than human.

Suddenly, he felt it—hands, bony and cold, wrapping around his arms, his legs. He looked down to see twisted, skeletal hands clawing their way out of the earth, fingers rotted and wet, reeking of decay. They gripped him tightly, their nails biting into his skin, pulling him closer to the figure in the mist.

Caleb tried to scream, but the mist swallowed his voice, suffocating him. The figure’s mouth opened wider, stretching unnaturally, revealing rows of dark, pointed teeth as she—or it—leaned close, whispering with a voice like his mother’s, “I’ve waited so long for you, Caleb. We all have.”

Her face contorted, and Caleb realized with horror that her skin was nothing but a mask, thin and brittle, stretching over something dark and shifting beneath. The mask began to crack, revealing a shifting blackness underneath, an endless void that pulsed with a terrible hunger.

The hands tightened their grip, pulling Caleb down, down, into the soil, the cold, damp earth filling his mouth, his nose, suffocating him as he was dragged deeper. He felt his mind splintering, his memories fading, each one ripped from him as the earth claimed him, his screams dissolving into silence.

The next morning, his grandmother found his flashlight outside the cemetery gate, its beam flickering weakly in the early light. She stared at it, knowing what it meant. But when she tried to remember Caleb’s face, the details were already fading, slipping from her mind like sand through her fingers. She could barely remember why she felt so sad, what she had lost. Only that something precious was gone.

And that night, the mist came again, thicker than ever. They say that if you walk near the woods at night, you’ll see dozens of lanterns flickering in the darkness, each one a soul that had been consumed, devoured until even their memory was erased. Some say that if you stare too long, you’ll feel the Lantern Man’s hunger, his desire to take you, to pull your very soul into the dark, endless void.

If you ever find yourself in Garrison Hollow, remember: if you hear your name, don’t answer. Don’t look back. And if you see a light flickering in the woods, don’t approach it. The Lantern Man is waiting, his hunger unending, his need to consume everything that makes you you.

And once you’re taken, no one will remember you ever existed. You’ll be nothing but another lantern, flickering in the mist.