Tommy interrupted. "There’s another article—one that might be even more useful."
"The Legend of the Lights..." Tommy murmured, his eyes scanning the screen.
"Read it," I said, pulling up a chair beside him, my curiosity piqued.
"It’s from an old blogspot. Not exactly scientific or factual," Tommy hesitated.
"Oh, shut up and read it, nerd," I teased, flashing him a grin.
He hesitated, unsure whether to be offended, but I added, "I’m just eager to learn anything we can."
The Legend of the Lights of Hungry Hills
"The people of Burnside don’t often talk much about the lights. They're not trying to be polite or indifferent, it comes from a place of fear. You can see it in their diverting eyes. In the way that their lips tighten whenever anyone comes asking questions about the phenomenon in the woods. The uneasy glances they cast towards the luscious, flowing hills of browns and greens. Especially as night begins to wake. There’s a lack of understanding; a mystery. The lights have always been, they say, but nobody knows or understands why.
The first record of the lights dates back to the late 1800’s. Back then, it was called Camp Burnside—before that it was named Point Isabel, by the pioneers from Carolina and Virginia. It was taken over by the Union Army during the Civil War in 1863 as a rendezvous point and supply base; hence the name Camp Burnside. The soldiers who arrived here were desperate, starving, and half-mad from all the action. They thought they’d found salvation when they came across a clearing near the edge of the forest, where the soil was rich and black, and the air smelled faintly sweet, like spring blossoms.
But there was something wrong with the clearing. The trees surrounding the edges of the forest and the Cumberland River were twisted, their trunks warped and singed as though they’d been touched by fire. At first, the soldiers didn’t care. They pitched their tents and took refuge in the few buildings that already occupied the area there. Ignoring the eerie feeling that crept up their spines whenever the wind carried an unnatural hum through the air.
Then, one night, the lights appeared.
It merely started as a soft glow; a pale blue, captivating, almost beautiful. One could almost imagine the soldiers were witnessing something akin to the Northern Lights. The lights hovered just above the tree lines. But as the light grew, the lights began to move erratically, flickering to and from the trees like fireflies… except, fireflies they were not. The lights didn’t seem to be flowing or drifting elegantly through the starry night sky; they were hunting, searching.
That night, the first soldier disappeared. A young man called Timothy Hawks, he was young, newly married. He was warming himself by the fire, with a handful of force members, when the first flash struck down in the woods beside them. The young man stood up, swore he heard his mother’s voice call out to him, and walked into the trees. He never came back. The soldiers believed there to be a spy, or an infiltration with new hightech technology, and had abducted the poor boy. Potentially torturing him for information, before leaving him for dead.
During the weeks that followed several other soldiers began to go missing. A handful of soldiers that managed to escape the incoming lights swore that they had seen faces in amongst the trees. The faces were dark, distorted, human-like but faded, grey in complexion. Many of the soldiers at the campsites swore that they heard voices from loved ones calling out their name in anguish, or sudden terror, begging for their help. One thing was for certain though, when the lights came, someone always ended up disappearing. The lights never left empty-handed.
The refugees of war began to light massive bonfires during the long nights, hoping that the flames would make it easier to spot the spies amongst them and the enemy that seemed to be coming in and kidnapping their soldiers. Others prayed, and carved crosses into the trees hoping for some form of otherworldly protection. The lights however danced through the smoke like it wasn't even there. Eventually they packed up their gear, their tents, their army and fled the area.
When others came and began to set up what is now known as the Burnside that we all now know, they found an abandoned clearing amongst the trees. There was a strange circle of blackened stone on the ground, and the trees were scorched. There were symbols etched into the ground also, no one could decipher it. The air in the area felt heavier, charged, like the static before a lightning storm. The people began to whisper that those that inhabited the area before them had either angered or stirred up something ancient, something that was not from our earthly existence.
The legend grew over time. People started referring to the phenomenon of the lights as the Hungry Lights, after the hollowed-out faces of those who disappeared—and because the lights, it seemed, were never satisfied."
© Copyrighted
Reference: The Unseen by Natacha Martins (Publishing 1st March 2025)
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