Halloween Story, Part 3
III.
Configurations
…yes.
You’ve seen it.
The light wavers like a flame in the distance. You move closer… it recedes. You turn and run… it follows.
You sit bolt upright, suddenly and unaccountably awake in the shrouded silence of a 3am winter’s night. At the foot of your bed is a glowing ball about the size of a cantaloupe. Your nine-year-old mind reasons that it’s one of your newly opened Christmas gifts, which apparently glows in the dark. That’s enough to return you to the sane harbor of sleep.
You’re flying a night raid into Nagoya, Japan. The crew chief reports an orange-red blob of luminescence matching your speed and heading. You scramble back past the bomb bay to see for yourself. The men are clustered around one of the mid-fuselage blisters, pointing. You see it holding position above the left horizontal stabilizer. You order the topside gunner to target and fire; the tracer rounds find their mark… but touch nothing. The hissing static of the intercom is punctuated by oaths and exclamations. A moment later, the light swoops ahead, overtaking your position and then diving into the black of the below.
Ball lightning. The Rolling Fire of Guernsey. The Marfa Ghost Lights. The Corpse Candles of Dartmoor. The Hessdalen Lights of Norway. Pwca. Dwaallicht. Onibi. Hitodama. Gui-Huo. Hi no Tama. ignes fatui. Min-min. El jacho. Kolli vai pisaasu. Peg-a-Lantern.
…Will o’ the wisp.
Configurations
…yes.
You’ve seen it.
The light wavers like a flame in the distance. You move closer… it recedes. You turn and run… it follows.
You sit bolt upright, suddenly and unaccountably awake in the shrouded silence of a 3am winter’s night. At the foot of your bed is a glowing ball about the size of a cantaloupe. Your nine-year-old mind reasons that it’s one of your newly opened Christmas gifts, which apparently glows in the dark. That’s enough to return you to the sane harbor of sleep.
You’re flying a night raid into Nagoya, Japan. The crew chief reports an orange-red blob of luminescence matching your speed and heading. You scramble back past the bomb bay to see for yourself. The men are clustered around one of the mid-fuselage blisters, pointing. You see it holding position above the left horizontal stabilizer. You order the topside gunner to target and fire; the tracer rounds find their mark… but touch nothing. The hissing static of the intercom is punctuated by oaths and exclamations. A moment later, the light swoops ahead, overtaking your position and then diving into the black of the below.
Ball lightning. The Rolling Fire of Guernsey. The Marfa Ghost Lights. The Corpse Candles of Dartmoor. The Hessdalen Lights of Norway. Pwca. Dwaallicht. Onibi. Hitodama. Gui-Huo. Hi no Tama. ignes fatui. Min-min. El jacho. Kolli vai pisaasu. Peg-a-Lantern.
…Will o’ the wisp.