Ethereal Chronicles

In a small, fog cloaked town at the edge of a marshy lake, a young fisherman named Thomas lived with his mother, Sarah. The town was buried in strange customs and whispered superstitions, most of them surrounding the large number of Fair Folk said to dwell in the wilds beyond the water’s edge. Of the other spirits there, none were more common than the Will o’ the Wisps.

Thomas had glimpsed the glowing lights for himself since childhood, though his mother warned him from entertaining so much as a fleeting glance. They led one to places one could never return from, and Thomas found little reason in risking such a thing. Most of the time, the lights would vanish before he could even look twice.

But as Thomas progressed into his adult life, the lights became bolder. They flickered more and more often in the corner of his eye, inviting him to follow a path unwanted, and unknown to him.

One evening, after spending the afternoon fishing upriver, Thomas returned home to find a ghostly light floating over his bedside. It shimmered like a blue flame, though it cast no heat, and the figure that lay within the glow was undistinguishable. But Thomas had seen such a phenomenon so many times before.

And yet this instance felt different. Powerful. Rather than turning away, Thomas stepped forward for the first time to approach the light, drawn to it as if by invisible thread. The moment he moved, the light flared, then darted to the open window. Startled, Thomas scrambled to chase it.

The Wisp led him beyond the quiet comfort of town and into the dense, reeking marshland that the villagers called Fogrest Hollow. No one dared venture there.

Had he any sense, Thomas might have turned back the moment his boots sank into the wet earth. But the magic of the Wisp had called to something inside him, something that had been brewing too long to ignore, and too deep for reason.

The muck swallowed Thomas’ legs with each step until he was almost knee deep in fetid sludge. The Wisp hovered just ahead, then blinked out of sight.

Sudden darkness fell, after which Thomas was immediately restored to his senses. And with his thoughts came rising panic. The marsh was still, with a silence too loud, too uneasy. Thomas began his attempts to retreat, but found that his legs were stuck fast.

He tugged, his breath catching in panic as he reached to pull one leg from the sloppy mess. As he moved his hand down towards the mud, however, something shifted.

A thick, black worm slithered from the darkness with alarming speed, winding up his outstretched arm before forcing itself between his lips. Thomas fell back with a muffled cry, clawing at his throat as he forced out hacking coughs to try and push the thing out. But the more he moved the more his throat bulged, skin turning blotched and swollen as the demon lodged itself inside.

No matter how hard Thomas coughed and prodded, the demon would not move an inch. It had no intention of leaving such a new, warm body after being starved of a host for so long. Once a few moments had passed, Thomas began to weaken, his breaths coming out in rasping chokes as his fingers scraped at the mud about him and his body stilled to slip beneath it.

Sarah awoke before dawn when she realised that her son had not yet returned. Fear crept in as she snuck a glance at his bedroom door. The window stood open, thin curtains fluttering in the lonely breeze which pushed through. Above the empty bed floated a familiar ghostly light.

Sarah sensed something was deeply wrong, and moved to the creature, hoping it might lead her to her son even if it did put her in danger. Through the cold morning mist, she followed the Wisp’s glow along the same track her son had walked. She saw the sunken footprints where the mud had swallowed his strength, then the drag marks near the edge of the lake.

And there, half submerged in the mud, lay Thomas.

With a strangled cry Sarah reached for her son, pulling his body up to face her. When she turned him over, she gasped, recoiling with horror.

His face was purple and still, lips parted as if mid-scream. His neck pulsed grotesquely, swollen almost to the width of his head, and just beneath the skin something moved and coiled about, clinging to him.

The Wisp, which had stopped to hover above the corpse, vanished.

Sarah never returned home that morning.

A harmless flickering light can’t be that dangerous… can it?

Think again.

A Will-o’-the-Wisp, or ignis fatuus (“foolish fire” in Latin)—is a ghost light that appears at night over marshes, swamps, and bogs. Folklore typically associates Will o’ the Wisps with ghosts, faeries or spirits which reveal a path, often one which leads the unwary into danger. 

Appearance and Attributes

Despite their somewhat friendly appearance, these mysterious little creatures are not what one would desire to bump into, especially in the dead of night. Typically reminiscent of ghost lights, the entities are frequently encountered in swamps and marshlands, lingering above the ground and misleading unsuspecting travellers. In some stories, the light is accompanied by someone – or something – that leads a lost traveller as far from safety as possible before blowing out the light, plunging the victim into darkness and leaving them to face the dangers of the bog alone.

The Jack O Lantern

A Will O the Wisp can also represent a soul cast from both Heaven and Hell, doomed to wander the earth for eternity. Some believe it to be a manifestation of the Jack O Lantern.

Jack struck a deal with the Devil, cunningly tricking him into order to secure more years of life. But upon his demise Jack met the terrifying realisation that he did not have a place in Heaven, nor even in Hell, having incurred the displeasure of the Devil. As punishment for Jack’s trickery, the Devil gave him embers harvested from the flames of his kingdom. This was a cruel gift, for while aiding Jack in navigating the darkness of his afterlife it served as an unrelenting reminder of his perpetual torment. Jack transformed the embers into a makeshift lantern by placing them into a turnip, hence why he is now known as the Jack O Lantern. To this day, Jack wanders the world alone, trapped between life and death. Perhaps he feels resentful, wishing to trap others in his desolate torment alongside him. Perhaps it is just a story to warn children of straying too far from home.

Ghosts

Will O the Wisps are also linked to the spirits of those who have died in tragedy. Occasionally they may be stillborns, or babies who have been unbaptised.

In other folklores, the creatures are said to be the protectors of a hidden treasure.