The Lantern Man of Cypress Lane

The summer of 1984 was a sticky, oppressive heat that clung to the skin like a second layer. My parents had shipped me off to my grandmother’s house in the sleepy town of Willow Creek, Louisiana, while they dealt with some family emergency up north. The house was a creaking Victorian relic, all peeling paint and sagging porches, nestled at the end of a long, gravel driveway lined with ancient oaks draped in Spanish moss. My grandmother, Nana Ruth, was a woman of few words and many superstitions. The most important rule she ever taught me: ‘Never look out the windows after dark, child. There are things out there that don’t take kindly to being watched.’

It was a Saturday night, and Nana Ruth had allowed me to stay up late to watch a new horror anthology show that had just started airing. The show was called “Midnight Terrors,” and I was both thrilled and terrified to watch it. The clock on the mantel struck ten, and Nana Ruth went to the kitchen to fix us some warm milk and honey, a remedy she swore by for calming nerves. I laid out my sleeping bag on the worn Persian rug, the fibers smelling of dust and mothballs, and nestled into it, eager for the show to begin.

As the theme music swelled and the first creepy vignette flickered across the screen, I felt an inexplicable urge to look at the front window. It was a large, bay window that faced the overgrown yard and the road beyond. The curtains were drawn, but I thought I saw a faint, orange glow flickering outside, like a candle or a lantern. My heart began to race. Nana Ruth’s warning echoed in my head: ‘Never look out the windows after dark.’ But the urge was overwhelming, a primal pull from the pit of my stomach.

I quietly unzipped my sleeping bag and crept to the window, pressing my face to the cold glass and peering through a small gap in the curtains. Outside, beneath the largest oak, stood a figure. It was a man, tall and thin, wearing a tattered black coat and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. In one hand, he held a lantern, the glass burning with a sickly green flame. He wasn’t moving, just standing there, as if waiting. I felt a chill run down my spine, and before I could think, I yanked the curtain closed and scrambled back to my sleeping bag, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure Nana Ruth could hear it.

When Nana Ruth returned with our mugs of warm milk, she saw my pale face and trembling hands. ‘Child, what’s the matter?’ she asked, setting the mugs down on the coffee table. I hesitated, not wanting to admit I had disobeyed her. But the image of the man with the lantern was seared into my mind. ‘Nana,’ I whispered, ‘I saw a man outside. He had a lantern with a green light.’

Nana Ruth’s face went ashen, and she dropped the spoon she was holding. It clattered loudly on the floor. ‘You saw the Lantern Man,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘He’s been seen around these parts since I was a girl. They say he’s a lost soul, searching for something he can’t find. But if he looks at you, if he sees you seeing him, he’ll follow you. He’ll never stop until he takes you with him.’ I looked at her, my eyes wide, but she seemed deadly serious. ‘Did he see you?’ she asked. I shook my head, not sure. ‘I don’t know. I pulled the curtains quick.’

Nana Ruth said nothing more, but she hurriedly turned off the TV and made us go to our bedrooms. She insisted I sleep in her room that night, on a cot she set up beside her bed. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind howl through the trees. I didn’t sleep a wink. Every few minutes, I thought I saw that green glow flickering through the window, but I refused to look out.

The next morning, the sun rose bright and harsh, and I felt a sense of relief. Nana Ruth was already up, making breakfast. ‘You best stay inside today, child,’ she said, not looking at me. ‘He might still be out there.’ I nodded, too scared to say anything. But as the day wore on, my curiosity got the better of me. I crept to the window in the parlor, which had a clear view of the oak tree. In the daylight, there was nothing there. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

That night, I couldn’t sleep in my own room again. I convinced Nana Ruth to let me sleep in the parlor on the sofa, saying the heat was too much upstairs. She reluctantly agreed, but she made me keep the gas lamp on low. I lay there, watching the shadows play on the walls, and I must have dozed off, because I woke with a start to a soft scratching sound at the window. My blood ran cold. The curtains were drawn, but the scratching continued, rhythmic and persistent. Then, a voice, low and gravelly, drifted through the glass: ‘I see you.’

I wanted to scream, but my throat closed up. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my hands over my ears, but I could still hear the voice, calling my name. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are.’ The scratching grew more frantic, and then, with a terrible crash, the window shattered. I screamed, and Nana Ruth came running in, her face a mask of terror. She grabbed my hand and pulled me up, and we fled to the basement, locking the door behind us.

We huddled in the dark, listening to the sounds of footsteps upstairs, heavy and slow. ‘He’s in the house,’ Nana Ruth whispered. ‘He’s come for you.’ I began to sob. ‘Nana, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.’ She shushed me, her voice firm but gentle. ‘It’s not your fault, child. He was always watching. It was only a matter of time.’

The footsteps grew closer, until they were right outside the basement door. Nana Ruth held up an old iron crucifix, her hand shaking. ‘He can’t cross iron,’ she said. ‘We’ll be safe here.’ But then, the lantern light seeped through the crack under the door, a sickly green glow that illuminated the room. The door began to splinter.

I looked into Nana Ruth’s eyes, and I saw a resolve there that chilled me even more than the Lantern Man. ‘You must go, child,’ she said, pointing to a small, coal chute in the corner. ‘Climb through, run to the Hendersons’ house. Don’t look back. Not once.’ I shook my head, not wanting to leave her, but she pushed me towards the chute. ‘Go! I’ll hold him off as long as I can.’

With a sob, I squeezed through the narrow opening, scraping my arms and legs, and tumbled out into the night air. Grass was wet with dew, and the moon hung high and pale. I started running, not daring to look back at the house. But as I ran, I heard a scream from within, a piercing sound that cut through the night and stopped my heart. I faltered, my body screaming to go back, but I remembered her words: ‘Don’t look back.’ So I ran.

I reached the Hendersons’ and pounded on their door. They took me in, and I stayed with them until the police arrived. They found the house empty, Nana Ruth gone, with no trace of her or the Lantern Man. The only thing they found was a single, broken lantern, its glass cracked and the green flame extinguished.

I never saw Nana Ruth again. But to this day, when I catch a flicker of light in the corner of my eye, or hear a whisper of ‘I see you’ on the wind, I know the Lantern Man is still there. And he’s waiting for me.