The Lantern’s Glow

It was an old legend, a tale passed down through generations in the small town of Ashfield, hidden deep within the rolling hills. The villagers spoke of a lantern that hung from an ancient oak in the middle of the nearby woods, a lantern that was never extinguished, no matter the season or weather. But no one ever dared approach the tree after sunset, for it was said that whoever ventured too close would never return.

The town had always kept its distance from the woods, even as the forest pressed closer against the town’s edge, its trees reaching toward the settlement like skeletal fingers. But for all its mystery, there was something about the woods that called to certain souls.

Lena was one of those souls.

Lena had grown up hearing the stories, her grandmother telling her them in hushed tones by the fire, as if afraid the lantern might hear. “The light’s not just a lantern,” her grandmother would say, her eyes filled with an old fear, “It’s a trap. A beacon for the lost souls who wander into the woods. If you see it, you’ll want to follow it. And once you do, you’ll never leave.”

Lena, however, was skeptical. She had grown tired of these superstitions, dismissing them as mere ghost stories meant to frighten children. But as she stood on the threshold of adulthood, curiosity gnawed at her, urging her to seek the truth behind the stories. After all, the lantern wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the mystery surrounding it.

One evening, when the moon was full and a thick fog rolled in, Lena decided she would be the one to uncover the truth. Armed with only a flashlight and a backpack, she told no one of her plans. She slipped into the woods just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the trees casting long shadows across her path.

The air was unnervingly still, and the deeper Lena ventured into the forest, the more oppressive the silence became. Even the usual rustling of leaves seemed to have vanished, replaced by an eerie stillness that made her skin crawl. Yet, in the distance, she could see it—the faint flicker of light through the trees, just ahead.

Her heart quickened as she pressed forward, the light growing brighter with every step. It was as if the lantern was calling to her, urging her closer. She tried to remind herself that it was just a lantern, nothing more, but the further she walked, the less she could ignore the growing sense of unease. Her thoughts began to blur, and her mind felt oddly clouded, as if something was pulling her deeper into the forest.

Finally, she reached the oak, the ancient tree that towered above her, its gnarled branches twisting like the hands of an old man. There, hanging from a branch, was the lantern. Its flame flickered, bright and steady, casting long shadows across the forest floor. But it wasn’t just a lantern—it was something more, something wrong. The light didn’t seem to emanate from the flame but from the very air around it, suffused with an unnatural glow.

Lena stepped forward, drawn toward the lantern like a moth to a flame. She could feel the pull in her chest, an undeniable compulsion to reach out, to touch the lantern. Her hand shook as she extended it, but just as her fingers were about to brush against the cold metal, a voice stopped her.

“Don’t.”

Lena froze. The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was clear. She turned around, scanning the shadows, but saw no one. The voice seemed to come from the very trees themselves, from the air. It was ancient, tired, as though it had spoken those words for centuries.

“Who’s there?” Lena called, her voice trembling, though she felt foolish for doing so. No answer came, only the rustle of leaves in the wind. The lantern flickered once, twice, as if urging her to act. But Lena hesitated.

For a moment, everything around her seemed to fall away—the wind, the trees, the world. She was alone, standing in the eerie glow of the lantern, caught in the spell of the forest. Then, as if waking from a dream, she snapped her hand back, stepping away from the light.

But it was too late.

The ground beneath her feet shifted, as if the very earth itself was breathing. The lantern’s light grew brighter, and the shadows seemed to stretch, reaching toward her, crawling up her legs. A cold, clammy sensation wrapped around her ankles. She tried to move, but her feet were stuck, as if the soil had turned to glue.

The whispers returned, louder this time. They were no longer just voices—they were faces, twisted and distorted, emerging from the darkness of the trees. Hollow eyes and empty mouths reached toward her, their breath cold as they spoke her name.

Lena...

The name echoed in her mind, over and over, until it became a scream in her ears.

Lena... come closer...

Her heart raced, her breaths shallow. Panic surged through her as the figures drew nearer, the whispering growing louder, the voices blending into one endless sound that pierced her very soul. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She wanted to run, but her feet were rooted to the earth. The shadows pressed in, suffocating, closing in on her.

And then, she saw it—the figure at the heart of the darkness, standing just beyond the lantern’s glow. It was a man, tall and thin, with eyes as black as the void. His face was obscured, but his presence was undeniable. He stared at her, his eyes hollow, as if he knew her—knew everything about her.

"You’ve awakened it," he whispered, his voice a rasp. "You’ve called it forth."

And in that moment, Lena understood. The lantern wasn’t a beacon of light. It was a trap. A lure for the lost souls, a call for those who wandered too far into the woods. And now, she was one of them.

The figure reached out, his hand like a shadow, and as it brushed against her arm, Lena felt herself being pulled into the darkness. The whispers swirled around her like a storm, louder and louder, until everything was swallowed by the cold night.

The next morning, the villagers noticed the lantern was gone. The oak tree stood silent, its branches empty. And no one saw Lena again. She had become another story—the latest lost soul to wander too far into the woods.

Thank you for venturing into The Lantern’s Glow. If the shadows of this story linger with you, please like and share—and remember, some lights are better left unseen.