The Wishing Lantern

Before the story begins, it is important to note that as the night gets longer and longer, the light gets darker and darker until it is so deep that you can’t see anyone to help you. On the night of November 8th, the night of a blood moon, 3 fourth grade school students biking past a graveyard, stopped to look around for a moth to catch for a science project. They creep around the cemetery with a dim lantern to attract the insect. They call their light the wishing lantern, hoping it will attract the perfect moth for their assignment. As they search for a moth, they read the names etched into the stones:  Dorothy Meyers, Robert Schefield, and Annabelle James. One stone is completely blank: it has no name nor does it have a death date. The grave is disturbed, the dirt looking as if it was just placed several hours ago, very rich instead of old and matted with grass. Though the students are puzzled, thinking that the stone is just too dirty to read in the dark, they carry on with their tasks running around waving a net in the air, attempting to catch the moth. At exactly 11:16 pm, something slowly sprouts up out of the dirt. It is a dirty, decayed, bloodstained hand. It tears at the dirt, groveling the rest of the body out of the ground. It darts out of the grave, unveiling its figure. The arm, shoulders, neck, chest, abdomen, thighs, shins, ankles, toes. Each one stained with sanguine blood, flesh ripped open, until nothing but the ravaged, milky white bones show. It has dark grey and black hair, so brittle and thin, it could fall out in an instant. The eyes, blood tainted like the moon, with deep black pupils, the eyes of no soul. The young boy notices the movement of the creature and innocently trots over to the disturbed grave. The figure moves towards a tree, hiding its corpse-like body. The boy arrives at the grave, unsuspecting of his fate. The creature swiftly takes its sharp, bloody claws of hands and takes one strike at the boy. He falls to the ground, with nothing but a claw mark and blood on his clothes. The figure looks for his next victims, catching a glimpse of the illumination from the lantern. The two other girls are still looking for moths, unknowledgeable about their little friend. It darts towards the unsuspecting students, but so quickly and quietly, there is barely a whisper. The students feel a chill on their neck, so cold like ice was running down it. They turn around to the deathly creature. For 1 second, they see its dark, sinful eyes. Its glare is so appalling, that they are frightened. The creature sticks its boney hands out, reaching for the flesh of the young girls. The girls tremble and rush away in terror. Death follows after them, mounting a sound of howling wind. And there is nothing there, except the burnt-out lantern of the victims of death. Had they known what was going to happen tonight, they would have wanted to keep that lantern with them. Like I said in the beginning, as the night gets longer and longer, the light gets darker and darker until it is so deep that you can’t see anyone to help you. The hope runs out and all you desire is light from the wishing lantern.