The Lantern Man

I. The Marsh of Black Hollow

Black Hollow was not marked on any modern map. Tucked between dead woods and endless marshland, it was more myth than memory. The only people who still spoke of it were drunk old men at backwater bars and desperate thrill-seekers online.

Karan was both.

An urban explorer with a following of 200k subscribers, he specialized in "lost places": decaying hospitals, forgotten bunkers, cursed ghost towns. When he heard about the Marsh of Black Hollow and the legend of the Lantern Man—a headless ghost seen wandering the wetlands—he was immediately obsessed.

Locals refused to go near it.

They said on moonless nights, a lantern glowed across the swamp, swinging slowly, and if you saw it, it meant he’d already seen you.

And once the Lantern Man saw you, you were never seen again.



II. Karan’s Journey

He arrived with two GoPros, a body cam, a lantern of his own, and a fully charged drone. His only companion was his reckless confidence.

Black Hollow was quiet, too quiet. No insects, no birds. Just stagnant water and rotted trees like broken fingers reaching from the bog.

“Perfect atmosphere,” Karan whispered to the camera.

He ventured deeper, thick mist clinging to his clothes. Occasionally, he marked trees with red tape—his breadcrumb trail back.

Two hours in, the drone lost signal.

Three hours in, he stopped seeing his red tape.

Four hours in, he heard it.

A bell.

No, not a bell… a faint metal clink, like chains… or a lantern’s handle swaying in the wind.

Except there was no wind.



III. The Lantern Appears

At first, Karan thought it was a trick of the fog.

But there it was: a distant orange glow, moving slowly between trees.

He zoomed in with his camera.

The light flickered with unnatural rhythm—like it pulsed, breathed.

And beneath the glow was a figure… tall, cloaked in shadow, and clearly, horribly, missing a head.

Karan’s breath caught in his throat.

He crouched, filming as the ghostly figure paused near the old footbridge ahead.

Then, the lantern turned toward him.

The ghost couldn’t have eyes, but Karan felt its gaze like a nail in his chest.

He ran.


IV. The Church Beneath the Earth

Karan stumbled blindly through the marsh, falling more than once, scraping his arms and tearing his gear.

Eventually, he collapsed into a hidden hole—a sunken structure covered in moss.

A church, buried halfway in the bog.

Inside, ancient pews lay overturned. At the altar, a headless statue stood holding a rusted lantern.

Behind it, words carved in blackened stone:
“Do not steal what you cannot return.”

The air inside grew thick, suffocating.

Then, a scream.

Not human.

Not animal.

But something.

Karan turned just in time to see the ghost step through the wall—closer now, clearer.

Its body was waterlogged, skin sloughing off like peeled paint. It lifted its lantern, and the light bloomed—

—and showed the head in its hand.

It wasn’t its own.

It was fresh.

Karan’s.


V. The Legend of the Lantern Man

Long ago, a preacher lived in Black Hollow. A gentle man who led a church on a hill. But the villagers turned on him when a child vanished, accusing him of witchcraft. They beheaded him in the marsh and threw his lantern into the bog.

That night, the entire village sank.

They say the preacher’s soul never left. He wanders still, lantern in hand, looking for a new head to replace the one taken from him.

Each century, he must claim one.

Just one.

To keep the others buried.


VI. Sunrise Finds Nothing

The next morning, search teams followed GPS coordinates to the last known location.

They found Karan’s tent.

His camera.

His drone.

But no Karan.

Just a lantern, burning bright at the edge of the marsh.

And next to it… a headless statue, freshly carved in wood, standing on a new altar in the trees.

One hand held a camera.

The other?

Held nothing at all.