Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27805653-20160331233034

An atmospheric ghost light, usually seen at night around marshy areas. My mother had told me it was used to guide travellers at night back into the comfort of civilization. That was the bland definition of a will o wisp I was taught by her during my adolescent life in Henderson Louisiana. Life there was not as “country” as most people would imagine for a small eastern town. I was surprisingly surrounded by technology, I had a playstation 2 the year of its release, my school had a computer lab and I had a GameBoy Advance as well. I was about twelve then, eyes wide, awkward and all that. I liked to play guitar and video games and football was okay although sports were not a big interest of mine. My family only consisted of my mother and I due to the fact of my father going missing. Well I guess I should stop talking about myself to not bore you to death and tell you about the weird event I experienced that year.

It was a awfully humid summer, but not one of the worst thank god. Things were slow around my mother’s house. My mom usually goes out with friends on the weekdays but she decided to stay home with me a little longer today so we could chat. It was hard to make conversation with my mother as she didn’t always seem to know what to say and she seemed to be lost in thought most the time. When she does though, it is about my father a lot of the time, memories of stuff they did and things he liked to do. Despite not knowing my dad, her talking about him gave a bitter taste to my mouth but I listened and talked for her. I could tell she still loved him dearly and wanted him back wherever he was.

As she talked to me this night, I was informed about my father’s knack for guitar like my own. She pulled out a sheet of paper which contained music notes, awfully dusty and slightly ripped. My mother said it was a song he was working on but he had difficulty creating his own, and I could easily tell. I’ll list off the chords for you if some of you readers are guitar players.

4th string 9th fret

4th string 6th fret

4th string twelfth fret

A chord twelfth fret

Stop, repeat times 3

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The instructions were very unclear without a strumming pattern nor which strings to hit so I was unable to mimic it. Although my mother asked me to try and play it, I gave my best attempt figuring it would make her happy. It was the first time in a month I’ve seen her smile so widely, she gave me a tight hug and walked out the door saying she would be out late with her friends and not to worry. I never knew what my mom did while she was gone but I decided long ago that it her business and I should not get involved. Besides I never minded being alone when she left, although this night felt much different.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">It was about eleven o'clock at night and I was bored out of my mind. I had a slight feel of worry as well. I knew my mother said she was staying out late but never stated when she was coming back. After peering out the dirty window into the lifeless streets for what seemed like forever, I figured it would be best to get some shut eye and stop worrying so much. I probably slept for about an hour until I was nearly blinded from something through my bedroom window.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">I woke up and rushed through the door of my house hoping my mother had just gotten back from her night out, but sadly that was not the case. As I exited my house, I noticed a shimmering light seemingly drifting away from me, and fast. I have no clue what motivated me to do this but I ran after it as fast as I could. I was fascinated by it, perhaps it was one of those ghost lights like my mom had told me. That excited me the most and I just had to see where it would lead.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">I followed the light for about 5 or so minutes. It kept getting dimmer along the day, and I figured my “destination” would be where it burned out. I was only following for fun with no care of where it would take me, that I would just go home right after. The only thing that frightened me was the dead silence as I followed it aimlessly. After about a minute or so my heart nearly flew out of my chest as the silence was broken with the melody of a guitar. I was as good enough of a player to know what the chords and pattern were and I was truly freaked out after I deciphered it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">It was the song my father was working on. All the fingers were correct as far as my ear could tell, but it was a slow plucking of the last three stings. But the guitar sounded off… I would say string issues, they likely were not tight enough combined with the issue of dead frets in certain areas. I heard the it go to the A chord. With its noise lasting for about a second then it stops. Plays again… stops. Plays again.. And stops. I was in a marshy area now and almost in tears terrified.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The silence was broken once more with a gut wrenching cackle and the breaking of wood and rustling of leaves. I tried to dash back home but the light held me back and kept me in place. Standing completely still and vulnerable to whatever is here with me. The wind is picking up now, the sound of swaying leaves surrounds me. And through all that noise I could still hear a word that was practically in a whispered tone. “Son”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The light has now vanished. An insanely tall, shadowy man approached from the trees in front of me. About seven feet tall from my perspective. He wore a black trench coat with red outlines, and a top hat. His face was pale with long black hair. I could make out orange glowy eyes. He gave me a smile three rows of teeth. Jagged, crooked, and sharp. I could swear they all had a red stain as well.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Who are you?” I asked the man

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">I received no answer.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;text-indent:36pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">A minute passed by… And out of nowhere the man began to slash at his arms with sharp nails that I have not even noticed. I could only watch and cry at the scene I had no ability to look away from. The man had bit his hand off and started to scratch and his stomach. I don’t know if this was my imagination but i heard a shriek from the man. “Get out of here before…” His face moved to meet mine and a psychotic grin emerged.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">I never remember a time I ran faster than that night. Despite my best efforts, the man or whatever it was caught up to me. I was tackled and pinned to the ground.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Is this the way to greet your father?” It asked maniacally.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">That statement made the world stop. This thing couldn’t be my dad. But how can I explain the song? What happened to him if this really was my dad. And if this was my dad in that body, he would not be trying to kill me that’s insane! But the way it fought itself, my father is likely controlled by something, I don’t know what but something.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">“Dad, please don’t do this!” I screamed

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.7999999999999998;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:#000000;font-weight:400;font-variant:normal;text-decoration:none;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;">The thing let out a shriek and I watched in horror as it gouged its nails into its eyes. I ran as fast as my body could crying and vomiting on top of the confusion and heartache I felt in me.

<span style="font-size:16px;font-family:'TimesNewRoman';color:rgb(0,0,0);font-weight:400;white-space:pre-wrap;">I have yet to tell my mother about this incident, and plan to never tell her. I don’t want her to worry or be scared for our sake. I feel more sympathy toward my father now, I can tell from the events that have unfolded that he truly cares about us and I hoped he would keep fighting whatever it is controlling him. I have moved out of the small town into New Orleans where I currently reside. What is happening to me now I cannot tell my mother about either. I have received a letter yesterday saying that my father's fight has ended and he is gone. The light is back now. It's been over a decade since its last arrival. It had shown up every night now and I mustn't stare at it for too long. I can't tell her about this. I can't. <ac_metadata title="Will O Wisp unreviewed"> </ac_metadata>