In the heart of a dense forest, nestled among the towering pines, stood an old lighthouse. Abandoned for decades, it was a relic of a bygone era, its purpose forgotten by all but the oldest residents of the nearby town.
Ethan, a writer with a penchant for the macabre, had stumbled upon the lighthouse while researching for his next horror novel. Intrigued by the tales of its haunted past, he decided it was the perfect setting for his story.
One stormy night, driven by a mix of inspiration and curiosity, Ethan ventured into the forest. The path was treacherous, the wind howled like a chorus of wailing ghosts, and the rain blurred his vision. Yet, he pressed on, drawn to the lighthouse as if by some unseen force.
Upon arrival, Ethan found the door ajar. He entered, flashlight in hand, the beam cutting through the darkness. The interior was as he expected: dilapidated, covered in dust and cobwebs, with the scent of mold filling the air. He made his way to the spiral staircase, intent on reaching the top.
As he ascended, Ethan felt a growing sense of unease. The storm outside intensified, thunder booming as if in warning. He reached the top, where the old light mechanism sat, silent and still. It was there, in the heart of the storm, that Ethan decided to begin writing.
He pulled out his notebook and pen, but before he could jot down a single word, a sudden chill swept through the room. The air grew thick, heavy with anticipation.
Then, without warning, the lighthouse’s light burst to life, casting a blinding beam across the tempestuous sea.
Ethan staggered back, shocked. The lighthouse had been abandoned, its power cut off long ago. Yet here it was, shining as brightly as if it had never ceased operation. As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, a voice whispered in his ear, so faint he thought he might have imagined it.
“Leave…”
Ethan spun around, but there was no one there. The voice came again, louder this time, a hiss that seemed to come from the very walls.
“Leave now!”
Panic set in. Ethan dropped his notebook and raced down the staircase, the voice following him, growing louder, angrier. He burst out of the lighthouse and into the storm, not stopping until he reached his car, breathless and soaked to the bone.
He drove away, glancing in the rear view mirror just in time to see the lighthouse’s light flicker and die, as if it had never been lit at all.
The next day, Ethan returned, driven by a mix of fear and fascination. But the path to the lighthouse was gone, swallowed by the forest as if it had never existed. No matter how long he searched, he could not find it again.
Ethan’s novel remained unfinished, the story of the lighthouse untold. But sometimes, when the storm clouds gather and the wind howls through the trees, he swears he can see a distant light, shining out across the sea, and he hears a whisper in the wind:
“Leave… and never return.”
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If you enjoyed this story, then you should definitely read the Curse of the Winterbourne Portrait: A Cycle of Haunted Fates
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