I Saw a Lantern Moving Through the Blizzard. I Shouldn’t Have Followed It.

Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep

A traumatized soldier recounts his harrowing journey through a blizzard after surviving a demonic attack on his cabin, haunted by memories o

Key takeaways

• The protagonist's trauma manifests as recurring visions of battle and loss, blurring past and present.
• Dead animals in the snow are not natural but symbolic, possibly guiding or warning him.

Main topics

• Survival in extreme conditions
• Psychological trauma from war

Notable quotes

I knew I had to live through this one to make it back to her.

The next corpse was that of a bobcat. just five yards inside the tree line.

Conclusion

The soldier's journey ends in a peaceful reunion with his wife Mary, s

Transcript preview

Speaker 2 (0:04) The Speaker 1 (0:05) city moves fast, but your vibe, that's different. Sharper, smoother, more alive. Speaker 3 (0:15) The new Speaker 1 (0:20) Honda City isn't just made to drive, it's made to feel. The new Honda City, all new vibe. Speaker 4 (0:28) Hey guys, we just launched a brand new show called Bedtime Horror Stories by Dr. No Sleep. It features eerie, atmospheric horror made for late-night listening, with relaxing rain and soothing narration. No sound effects, no jump scares. If you enjoy falling asleep to scary stories, click the link to Bedtime Horror Stories in the description below and subscribe with all notifications on. Speaker 4 (0:57) My battle cry sounded weak, overshadowed by the chaotic sounds of war, men screaming in pain, the sound of cannons firing at our flanks, the crackle of grape shot ripping through trees and flesh, and the snap of muskets firing. My boots crunched over the frozen winter grass as our battle line closed in on the Confederates amid a chorus of shouts. Like most of the others around me, I'd fired my last shot, and my hands shook as I gripped my springfield. keenly aware of the bayonet jutting from its end. Mary's face surfaced in my mind, as it often had since the war separated us. Her leaf-green eyes bright with mischief, strands of hay-colored hair falling across her face, the feel of her lips on mine when we married only a month before I enlisted. As with every other battle I'd been in, I knew I had to live through this one to make it back to her. And I knew that almost every other man on both sides was thinking the same thing about his sweetheart back home. Including the men I locked eyes with across ten feet of frozen land. Brown eyes, full of anger. A beard-rimmed mouth twisted in a sneer. Bayonet pointed at me, the same color as the cloudy sky. Bodies collided all around. I thrust my musket toward the man in the gray uniform while he drove his own at me. Gasping in pain, I opened my eyes to find myself miles and years away from the battlefield. My sleep-fogged mind struggled to make sense of the dark cabin, the pain in my gut, and the massive, bear-like shape looming over me. Then Mary's muffled shriek cut through the darkness, and I realized she was no longer beside me. Reflexes took over. By the time I staggered from the flaming cabin, bloody and scorched and carrying my dead wife, I knew our attackers weren't normal bears. The assailants were demonic in nature. It was the only explanation for their bizarre appearance, their silence, their ability to take immense damage. No man could have survived what I'd done to those creatures, yet all three had escaped. One of them had even sent a burst of flame from its mouth, setting the cabin walls ablaze as they fled. Feeling like a ghost, I set Mary on the ground near the creek and gently adjusted her body. Her head had lolled against my arm as I carried her, attached to her body by little more than the spine. I spun around, determined to search the small stable for Jacob. who insisted on sleeping with the horses when the weather allowed. As I started toward the rudimentary structure, I sensed movement from the woods. Dressed only in my blood-drenched cotton nightshirt and armed with my bone-handled knife, I tensed, preparing for another fight. The gash in my leg screamed with every movement, but the wound in my stomach hurt even worse, right beside my old bayonet scar. Jacob tottered out of the trees, blood running down his face and dripping off his sparsely whiskered chin. The slim 19-year-old wore only a nightshirt and socks. His brown eyes struggled to focus when they found me. Telling him to stay put, I darted back into the cabin, the growing flames causing my beard to curl and the smoke robbing me of breath. Without adequate food, clothing, and weapons, we were as good as dead. Moments later, I stumbled out, coughing and retching, eyes stinging. I fell to my knees, dumping what few supplies I had managed to gather. A glance through tear-blurred eyes at the open stable verified what I already knew. The horses were gone. The nearest town was Miles City, two days' ride south. Without horses, it would take us five. In the light of the roaring fire, I surveyed the supplies, knowing we would never make it to Miles City on foot. Our only hope, then, was the buffalo hunters rumming the hills, looking for bison to slaughter for their hides and bones. If we could reach a hunter camp, I was confident they would lend us aid. Those of us on the frontier looked out for one another, but I wasn't going anywhere until I gave Mary the Christian burial she deserved. Speaker 4 (5:09) Wind howled through the trees. A smoke-gray cloud bank, barely visible through the evergreen canopy, hastened night's arrival, which was still several hours away. The first hard pellets of snow made their way through the pine branches to pummel my face. Lowering my chin against the onslaught, I spotted a corpse. It was fifty yards from where the woods petered out to endless rolling hills of autumn grass, the strands of which danced in the wind. It belonged to a coyote. I slowed my limping, pain-hindered gait to look at the creature lying on its side near the base of a pine tree, mouth open, sharp teeth visible, tongue lolling against the bed of tawny pine needles. The teeth made me think of the bear demons. The one who'd stabbed me had done so with what appeared to be a tusk growing from the end of its fur-covered arm. The wound, which I had cleaned and dressed as best I could, still trickled blood. A ghostly feeling of being unmoored from the world swelled inside me. It was one I'd been carrying with me for 15 years, always there, but sometimes just a background noise, like the rumble of a distant train. I asked God for guidance. I was being punished, there was no doubt about that, but I didn't know why. I received no answer, unless this dead coyote was some cryptic message. The next corpse was that of a bobcat. just five yards inside the tree line. Judging by the awkward way it lay at the foot of a juniper, I thought it had climbed the tree before dying, only to fall as life slipped away. I looked over my shoulder to see Jacob stumbling after me. The nasty gash on his scalp had long since stopped bleeding, but the effects of the blow to the head persisted. I'd managed to grab our boots and a heavy coat for each of us, but no pants. Before the fire reached the stable, I also snatched a saddle blanket and leather harness. Using my