Lantern Season

Chapter 1: The Golden Glow

In the quiet hamlet of Eldridge Hollow, Connecticut, autumn was more than a season—it was a living pulse, a time when the world seemed to hold its breath. The maples blazed gold and crimson, their leaves drifting like embers on the wind, and the air carried a chill that whispered of change. For Tessa Wren, 16, autumn was Lantern Season, a tradition as old as the town itself. Each October, on the night of the Harvest Moon, the people of Eldridge Hollow lit lanterns—handcrafted relics of wood and glass, passed down through generations—to honor memories of those gone before. The lanterns, it was said, captured fleeting moments of the past, their glow a bridge between the living and the lost.

Tessa stood on the weathered porch of her family’s farmhouse, clutching three lanterns her grandmother, Elara, had crafted decades ago. Their frames were oak, polished smooth, with stained-glass panels etched with symbols Tessa didn’t fully understand—swirls and stars, like secrets carved in light. Elara had died when Tessa was six, but her stories lingered: tales of lanterns that flickered with memories, holding fragments of love, sorrow, and truth. Tessa’s mother, Lila, had kept the tradition alive until last year, when cancer stole her away. Now, it was Tessa’s turn, though the weight of it felt heavier than the lanterns in her hands.

On October 22, 2025, as the Harvest Moon rose, Tessa prepared for the ritual. Her father, Jonah, was inside, lost in his grief, leaving her to face the night alone. She hung the lanterns on the porch hooks—Memory, Sorrow, Truth—as Elara had named them. Striking a match, she lit each one, their glow casting a golden halo across the frost-kissed grass. Tessa whispered her mother’s name, “Lila,” hoping the lanterns would carry her memory, as the tradition promised.

But as she stepped back, a fourth lantern appeared on an empty hook, its glass a deep indigo, unlit yet glowing faintly from within, like a star trapped in a bottle. Tessa’s breath caught. She hadn’t placed it there. The lantern pulsed, and a voice—Lila’s, soft and urgent—whispered from its core: “Tessa, my spark... the lanterns remember. Find the hidden flame.”

“Mom?” Tessa’s voice trembled, tears welling. She reached for the indigo lantern, its warmth tingling against her fingertips. “What hidden flame? Where are you?”

The voice faded, but the glow intensified, casting shadows that danced like figures on the porch. “The Hollow holds it... trust the light.”

Tessa clutched the lantern, her heart racing. Eldridge Hollow was steeped in folklore—ley lines, spirits, a land alive with memory. Was this magic, or madness born of grief?

Chapter 2: Whispers of Memory

Tessa brought the indigo lantern inside, setting it on the kitchen table beside her mother’s old journals. Jonah, gaunt and distant, glanced up from his tea. “What’s that?”

“A new lantern,” Tessa said. “It spoke. Mom’s voice.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Tessa, don’t. It’s just... you miss her.”

“It was real,” she insisted. “She said to find the hidden flame.”

Jonah shook his head and retreated to his room, leaving Tessa alone with the journals. She flipped through Lila’s entries, finding one from 2015: Elara taught me the lanterns are more than tradition. They’re tied to the Hollow’s ley line—a current of memory beneath the earth. Once, a fourth appeared to me, glowing with her voice. I was too afraid to listen. It vanished by dawn.

Tessa’s skin prickled. The ley line again. Town legends spoke of it as a vein of energy, fueling miracles and hauntings. Lila had scoffed at it publicly, but her journal told another story.

At school the next day, Tessa confided in her best friend, Sarah Kline, a tech-savvy junior with a passion for local history. In the library, Sarah pulled up old records on her laptop. “Ley lines are supposed to be energy paths, storing echoes of the past. Some say they amplify emotions, even memories. Your lanterns might be tapping into that.”

“Like a battery for ghosts?” Tessa asked, half-joking.

“Or for memories,” Sarah said. “If your mom’s voice is in that lantern, it’s pulling from something powerful.”

Tessa showed Sarah the indigo lantern, hidden in her backpack. Its glow was faint in daylight, but Sarah felt its warmth. “It’s alive, Tessa. Like it’s waiting.”

That night, Tessa lit the three lanterns again, placing the indigo one beside them. The glow flared, and Lila’s voice returned: “Tessa... the hidden flame... it’s in the grove. They lied about the fire.”

Tessa’s breath hitched. Lila’s death was attributed to a house fire during a storm, ruled accidental. But whispers had lingered—arson, tied to land developers eyeing the Wren farm for a tech complex. “Mom, what fire? Who lied?”

“Find the grove... the keeper knows...” The voice faded, the lantern dimming.

Chapter 3: Read more :https://zeravinemastery.blogspot.com/2025/10/lantern-season-when-autumn-burns-in.html