The Lantern in the Colonnade

The old courthouse had been repurposed into a museum, but the weight of its past clung to the marble floors like a persistent chill. Our paranormal team, Spectral Inquiry, had been granted an overnight investigation, and our host, a meticulous curator named Eleanor, had shown us every corner of the building, from the dusty archives to the echoing rotunda. The atmosphere was professional, almost sterile, but beneath the surface, there was a tension that hummed in the air, as if the building itself was holding its breath.

After a dinner of cold cuts and pastries in the staff break room, we gathered in the main court chamber. The room was vast, with high ceilings and tall windows that let in the faint glow of streetlights. Eleanor had placed a single candle on the judge’s bench, its flame dancing in the drafts. Our lead investigator, Marcus, set up his equipment while the rest of us took our positions. I was seated at the defense table, and beside me was a young woman named Priya, who had brought her K2 meter, a device that measured electromagnetic fields, often used in spirit communication.

Marcus began the session with a calm, methodical approach, asking for any spirits present to make themselves known. We waited in silence, the only sound the occasional creak of the old building. Then, Priya placed her K2 on the table and began to speak in a soft, inviting tone. ‘If there is anyone here with us, please move toward the green light on this device.’ She pointed to the small LED light that indicated a strong electromagnetic presence.

At first, nothing happened. But then, a curious thing caught my eye. On the balcony that overlooked the court, there was a small, green exit sign. It was the only source of green light in the entire room. As Priya repeated her request, I noticed the sign flicker. It dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again. I wasn’t the only one to notice; a murmur rippled through the group. Marcus instructed everyone to focus on the balcony. ‘If you are with us,’ he called out, ‘please go to the green light.’

In response, the green sign dimmed significantly, as if the spirit was drawing energy from it. The room fell into an eerie hush. Priya leaned forward, her voice trembling slightly. ‘Can you make the light go out entirely?’ There was a pause, then the sign flickered and went dark, plunging the balcony into shadow. A collective gasp escaped the group. The sign remained off for a full ten seconds before it sputtered back to life, dim and weak.

The investigation continued with heightened intensity. We asked the spirit to tap on the wooden railings, and indeed, a series of knocks echoed from the balcony, each one seeming to come from a different spot. We asked for a name, and the K2 meter spiked wildly, then settled on a pattern of five spikes. We deciphered it as ‘Elias’, an old name that fit the building’s history. Curious, I asked Eleanor if she knew of an Elias associated with the courthouse. Her face paled. She whispered, ‘Elias was a bailiff who died in a fire here in the 1920s. He was known for his habit of sitting on that very balcony during trials.’

But the most unsettling moment came when Priya, following a sudden impulse, asked the spirit to touch her. She stood up, her arms outstretched, and closed her eyes. The air around her grew cold, and I could see her breath misting. Then, she gasped and stumbled backward, clutching her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, there was a look of profound shock on her face. ‘It was like a hand, but icy,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘And it whispered in my ear. It said, ‘You should not have come.”

The rest of the night, the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive. The green sign flickered erratically, and the knocks became more frequent, sometimes right behind us, causing us to spin around only to find empty aisles. By dawn, we were all exhausted, both physically and mentally. As we packed up our equipment, I glanced one last time at the balcony. The green sign was steady, casting its pale glow, but for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw a silhouette of a man in an uniform sitting in the shadows, watching us leave. I blinked, and it was gone.

We never held an investigation there again. But sometimes, in the dead of night, I still see that green light in my dreams, and I hear that whisper, warning me to stay away.