The Ghost Light

            CONTINUATION FROM PREVIOUS WEEK

            Something was rising out of the bushes on the other side of the small stream I had found in the dark nighttime forest. A voice that sounded like empty tin cans and discarded newspaper blowing down a vacant street said, “Lost, little boy?” I didn’t know how to respond, mostly because I was scared speechless and my body was numb. I had had ghostly encounters twice before in my life, but the first time I was too young to be truly frightened and the second time I was a teenager and oblivious to what I was seeing. Now I was well aware that the being before me was neither flesh nor blood and that it was addressing me.

            Despite my terror, something about what the apparition had said bothered me. I finally hit upon the offending bit and spoke back, somewhat defiantly, “I’m not a little boy. I just turned 30 a couple of months ago.” The nebulous shape before me shuddered slightly and retorted, “I’m technically over 150. You’re a little boy in my book.” I couldn’t argue with his cold logic, so I shrugged and went back to being scared. After visibly trembling for a bit, I eked out the only thing I could think to ask the ghost: “What do you want?” The ghost’s desolate voice responded, “I only want to know if you’re lost. I know these woods like the back of my hand and can help you back to safety.”

            My mind was full of questions at this point: Who was this ghost when he was alive? Could I trust him? Why was he so willing to help me? Was it a trap to kill me so he could have a friend? Why was his voice so creepy? Did he possibly have anything lying about that was edible? As I wondered all of this my brain began to function more and more normally. I remembered how much I enjoy a good adventure, and that I needed material for the next week’s column. Before I knew it none of my questions seemed important in the face of the epic adventure standing before me. A 150-year-old ghost was going to lead me through a creepy forest in the dead of night!

            The ghost hadn’t tried to harm me yet, so I figured I could trust him. I looked at him and said, “Yes, I’m lost. I would be extremely grateful if you could help me.” The flickering mass of air in front of me seemed to smile and bow and then proceeded to bend down and retrieve something from beneath the thick bushes. As he straightened back up, the area around him was immediately illuminated with a pale glow, like a subdued fluorescent light. I could now see the ghost’s features a little better. He had a stubbly beard, thick eyebrows, a sort of furry top hat, a long, dark wool overcoat, and gray trousers. He was holding an old metal lantern in his left hand, but I couldn’t perceive where the light was actually coming from. There was no flame or intense point of light, but somehow light emanated from the lantern all the same.

            “You’re going to have to cross the stream if you want my help, boy,” the ghost said as he began to turn to lead me through the forest. I looked down at the small flow of water and suddenly had a pang of trepidation. After a moment’s hesitation, the desire to experience a grand adventure quickly quelled any misgivings I had, and I nimbly hopped over the two-foot-wide streamlet.

            And plunged into the blackest void imaginable.

            Moral of this part of the story: Intuition and gut instinct are the most reliant tools humans possess. Don’t ignore them.

            TO BE CONTINUED…