The Lantern Keeper - Part 1 (Listening Beyond Words)

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving the streets glistening like strands of silver. Arjun walked aimlessly, his shoes splashing in shallow puddles. He was not searching for anything in particular, only a corner to hide from the damp evening. That was when his eyes caught sight of it—an old shop wedged between two tall, modern buildings, as if time itself had forgotten to move it forward.

The wooden board above the crooked door read, Lanterns for the Lost.

Something about those words tugged at him. He pushed open the door, and a faint bell announced his arrival. Inside, the air smelled of old wood, rain-soaked earth, and a strange warmth that did not belong to the outside world. Rows of lanterns lined the shelves, glowing softly, each with its own shade of light. Some shone in golden warmth, some flickered in cool blues, while a few barely held on to their dim flames, as though they were breathing their last.

Behind the counter sat an old woman. Her silver hair was tied neatly in a bun, and her eyes sparkled with a knowing gentleness. It was not the sharp look of a seller but the tender gaze of someone who had been waiting for him all along.

“You don’t choose the lantern,” she said in a voice as soft as rain, “the lantern chooses you.”

Arjun froze, unsure how to respond. Before he could speak, one lantern on the farthest shelf trembled. It was covered in dust, its glass scratched, its flame so weak it looked almost dead. Yet, it flickered stubbornly, as if calling his name.

The old woman lifted it carefully and placed it in his hands. “Light it,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

With hesitant fingers, Arjun struck a match. The moment the lantern’s flame caught, the shop dissolved around him. His breath hitched as he found himself standing in a small living room.

A boy sat at a wooden table, his face flushed with frustration. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling out with the desperation of someone trying hard to be understood. Across from him sat his father, head bowed, eyes locked on a glowing phone. He nodded from time to time, but never once did his eyes meet the boy’s.

The boy’s voice broke, louder now, cracking under the weight of disappointment. And then—silence. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping the floor in protest, and stormed out of the room.

The silence that followed was crushing. It was not empty—it was heavy, echoing with everything the boy had wanted to say and everything the father had failed to hear.

Arjun felt a sharp ache in his chest, as if the scene belonged to him, as if he had lived it somewhere deep within his own life. The lantern in his hand dimmed, and in the blink of an eye, the shop returned around him.

The old woman’s voice floated through the stillness. “Most people hear to reply, not to understand. Sometimes, the greatest gift is your silence—because in silence, the other person feels seen.”

Arjun looked down at the lantern, its soft glow reflecting in his eyes. It was not just a source of light. It was a mirror, showing him something he had long forgotten.

To be Continued...

#life #flashfiction #shortstories #mystery #suspense