The Light That Wanders
Sometimes, on still nights, there’s a glow that dances just beyond reach. Soft and flickering, like a floating candle. It might not stay long — just a moment, before it vanishes into the trees or hovers over a quiet pond. Some call it the Will-o’-the-Wisp.
It feels like a secret light. The kind that appears when the world is hushed, when the stars hold their breath and the trees seem to listen.
People have spoken of these lights for centuries. In old tales, they drift over marshes and forest paths, as if leading the way — though no one is quite sure where they lead. Some say they’re playful spirits. Others call them fairy lights, or wandering souls carrying flickering lanterns across the dark. And in many stories, it’s said that following them can be dangerous, drawing travelers deeper into the wild, away from the paths they know. But not all tales end in misfortune — some speak of hidden treasure, waiting at the end of the lights, for those brave or foolish enough to follow.
Maybe they’re only light. Or maybe they’re something else entirely.
There’s a science to it, too — some researchers believe the lights are caused by gases like methane and phosphine, released by decaying plants in wetlands. When these gases meet oxygen, they can sometimes ignite into a brief, wavering glow. Others point to bioluminescent fungi, or light from distant sources bending strangely through fog and mist.
But even with theories and names, the wonder remains. The lights keep their distance. Unexplained. Unheld.
