MidnightScreams

Full Story:

I. The Arrival

The Blackhaven Lighthouse stood alone on the jagged cliffs of the English coast, an ancient stone sentinel against the roaring waves. No ships had needed its guidance for years, yet the light still burned, casting eerie glows over the water.

Isla Graves, a marine historian, had come to document its history, drawn by rumors of strange happenings—whispers in the wind, inexplicable cold spots, and the wails of a woman lost to time. She had always scoffed at ghost stories, priding herself on logic. But when she stepped through the iron-wrought gates, an unsettling chill crawled over her skin.

The keeper's quarters smelled of salt and old books. Dust-laden journals lay stacked on a desk, relics of the lighthouse's former life. Most were mundane records of tides and weather—except for one.

It bore the name Edmund Langley, Keeper – 1763.

A curious entry read:

"Elara’s cries grow louder each night. She will not forgive. She will not leave."

II. The Legend of Elara

Elara Duval had been a lighthouse keeper’s wife in the 18th century. A woman of striking beauty and an uncommon mind, she had once been the heart of Blackhaven. She and Edmund Langley had been deeply in love—until war came.

Edmund, press-ganged into service by the Royal Navy, was taken from her. She waited, tending the light, praying for his return. When she finally heard news of him, it was devastating—his ship had wrecked, but his body was never found. In grief, she threw herself from the lighthouse, her broken body swallowed by the waves.

But she had not disappeared.

Whole villages reported seeing a shadowy figure walking along the cliffs. Livestock were found mutilated, and families vanished overnight, their homes left abandoned. Sailors spoke of a woman's song that lured them to their doom. The land whispered her name—Elara.

And now, Isla was here, drawn into her story.

III. The First Night

The wind howled against the tower as Isla set up her recording equipment. Static filled the airwaves, occasionally breaking into faint murmurs.


At first, she dismissed it as interference. But then—

"He never came back… He never came back…"

Isla’s breath hitched. The words carried a bone-deep sorrow, a centuries-old longing.

A cold spot formed by her side. The lantern flickered. Then—a shadow moved in the reflection of the window, though she stood alone.

The lighthouse doors creaked open.

IV. The Haunting Intensifies

Over the following days, the disturbances escalated. Footsteps echoed in the tower when Isla ascended the spiral staircase. The scent of salt and roses clung to the air.

One night, she awoke to see wet footprints leading to her bed.

Then, the whispering turned to something more sinister.

"I waited… You left me…"

Elara’s voice grew guttural, laced with fury.

Isla saw visions of fire and blood. Towns razed. The drowned reaching for the shore. And always, at the center, a woman in a tattered black gown, her face shrouded in shadows.

Blackhaven had betrayed her. And she had made them pay.

V. The Revelation


Desperate for answers, Isla scoured Langley’s journal. A final, frantic passage stood out:

"She does not understand. I was never lost at sea. I was taken. I returned for her, but she was gone…"

Edmund had come back. But too late.

Isla realized the truth—Elara had waited in agony, believing herself abandoned. And when she had taken vengeance on the village, Edmund had tried to stop her… only to become her first victim. She had torn his soul from his body, trapping him within the lighthouse’s flame.


He was the light’s eternal keeper now.

VI. The Final Confrontation

That night, Isla stood by the lantern, heart pounding.

"Elara," she whispered. "He came back. You never saw him."

The air turned ice-cold. The shadow in the corner of the room twisted, elongated. From within it, a woman’s face emerged—gaunt, grief-stricken, her eyes black pits of endless sorrow.

"Lies," she hissed.

Isla held up the journal. "Read it. See for yourself."

The shadow wavered. Then, a second form appeared—the ghost of Edmund Langley, locked within the fire.

"Elara…" his voice was hoarse. "I searched for you. I tried to come home."

For the first time, the wraith faltered. Her form flickered, shifting between monstrous rage and something painfully human.


"You… you left me in the dark…"

"No," Edmund said. "You became the dark."

Elara’s scream split the night, a cry that shook the walls. The lantern shattered, plunging the room into darkness. A force knocked Isla back, her vision swimming—

And then, silence.

VII. The Lighthouse Remains

When Isla awoke, the lantern had reignited, its glow softer, more golden. Edmund was gone. And so was Elara.

Or so she thought.

As she descended the stairs, she saw something scratched into the wooden banister—words that hadn't been there before:

"I still wait."

The air smelled of salt and roses.

Outside, the tide crashed against the cliffs, the waves whispering a name—

Elara.

And far out at sea, the Blackhaven Light continued to burn.