Your True Tales
May 2003 – Page 31

The Phantom Lantern
by Lillith D.

When I was a young girl, we lived in a big colonial house that stood along the Mianus River on the property line between Stamford and Greenwich, Connecticut. The land had many centuries ago been part of an Indian burial ground. A battle from the Revolutionary road had also been fought on and around the area. Needless to say, there were a few "strange" things that happened to us while we grew up there. 

One of the most memorable occurred along the little road that wound up alongside the property; it was actually the access way to the main street for two of the homes on the far side of our property. I remember one summer night, sitting on the porch with my family and watching the sun as it set over the tall maple trees. The sky was a deep dark blue, and pink clouds were lined up along the horizon. While we sat there, my sister looked out at the road that curved along our property. On each side of this road was a stone wall, about knee-high, that disappeared into a wooded area. Suddenly she pointed to the road. A lantern, like one from the 1800s, was slowly making it's way up the road. It burned a bright red color and slowly bounced up and down as if someone were holding it and walking in a slow and deliberate manner along the path. 

As the lantern made its way closer to us, we were all astonished (and frightened) to see that no one was holding it! It slowly kept its pace, passed alongside our house and continued up the old dirt road. We were speechless. But later that night we were horrified. Around 11:00 p.m. that night, we were all awakened by the loud screams of a woman. From near where the lantern had disappeared, we heard the screams again. I remember my father being so scared that he immediately called the police. But in his terror he gave them the wrong address. The police never showed. The woman stopped screaming, but there were two or three more times we watched that lantern make its way up the winding road in the evening as the sun set.

< Previous story | Next story >

< main menu