Chapter 2 – The Stranger’s Warning
505 Words
The town market was always busiest on Saturdays, when farmers from nearby villages came to trade fresh produce and crafts. Amelia wandered between the stalls that morning, trying to distract herself from the boy’s empty desk. She bought apples, a loaf of bread, and a paper cone of roasted chestnuts, but her thoughts circled back to the strange green lantern in the woods.
As she lingered near the bookseller’s stall, a voice rasped behind her.
“You saw it, didn’t you?”
She turned sharply. An old man stood in the shadow of the church wall, his coat worn and frayed, his hat pulled low over his brow. His eyes, pale and watery, fixed on her with unsettling intensity.
“I beg your pardon?” Amelia asked cautiously.
“The lantern,” he whispered, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. “Green flame, swaying in the mist. You saw it.”
Amelia felt her throat tighten. “How would you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen it too. More times than I care to remember.” The man shuffled closer, the smell of tobacco and damp earth clinging to his clothes. “The Lantern of Black Hollow—it appears before someone vanishes. Always has. Always will.”
Her chest prickled with unease. “That’s just a superstition. An… old wives’ tale.”
The old man gave a humorless chuckle. “That’s what they want you to think. Makes it easier to keep the truth buried.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “The lantern calls to the marked. If you see it, child, stay away. Stay far away.”
Before Amelia could reply, the church bell tolled, its deep clang echoing through the square. The man flinched and pulled back, his gaze darting nervously toward the townsfolk who were starting to notice him. “Careful, teacher,” he muttered. “Curiosity here can cost more than your life.”
Then he turned and melted into the crowd, vanishing between two stalls before she could follow.
Amelia stood frozen, her chestnut bag forgotten in her hand. A chill rippled down her spine. She had come to Black Hollow to teach multiplication tables and grammar, not to chase phantoms. And yet…
That afternoon, she stopped by the local library, a cramped building that smelled of dust and ink. She combed through brittle newspapers, old town records, anything that might explain the disappearances. Strangely, there was nothing. Pages were missing, dates skipped, articles torn out entirely.
But tucked between two forgotten volumes, she found a scrap of paper, yellowed with age. On it was a hand-drawn symbol: a lantern, flames sketched in green, beneath it the words:
“When the lantern burns, a soul must turn.”
Amelia’s pulse quickened. She folded the scrap carefully into her notebook, her mind swirling with questions.
That night, as rain began to patter against her window, Amelia dreamed of the green lantern. But this time, it wasn’t in the woods.
It was right outside her door.
- Writer
