There is a glow of light among the bare trees. Its orange harsh shine penetrates through the limbs from a distance. It flicks on precisely when dusk falls and burns until it is about 3 a.m., almost as if it were on a timer.

I’ve often sat upon this fence post watching this light never waiver. It is a constant in this ever-changing environment. Always turning on at dusk, always shutting off at the witching hour. Never losing its caustic glow through rough winds, snow, or rain. The light is still.

Some say it’s a light that belonged to some poor soul who had lost their life trekking through the woods and this was its signal for help. Some say it’s just a road lamp peeking from the road and has faulty wiring. But then there are others who say it is a beacon for wanderers, lost souls, abandoned children, and the broken hearted who are looking to descend into hope. No matter the theory, no one is quite sure what the significance of this light is because no one has even tried to go investigate it. To them, it isn’t worth the time.

But tonight, someone would go out there and find the meaning behind it.

I believed that it was the last theory and I had waited many sleepless nights to get the courage to find out for myself. My heart was broken. My soul was wandering. I felt like an abandoned child.

I needed the hope. I needed the hope to continue on in this life and have some kind of beacon to set my path.

And right as dusk hits, I see it come on immediately. I wipe my eyes and nose on my sleeves, clearing away the tears that had been falling from my eyes since I had sat out here to get away from the hell that laid waste in my “house.” Then I jumped down from the post, wiping my hands on my pants, and began to walk towards that harsh glow. Not knowing way lay in wait for me nor caring. Just as long as it gave me some kind of hope or joy in my life.

The sound of crunching of leaves and dead grass underfoot penetrate the almost silent air. It was lukewarm out even though I felt almost chilled to the bone. And I could see nothing in front of or around me, only that one signal kept me walking the straight and narrow. I was trusting my dulled senses to lead me there.

I was vastly closing in on my target as I pushed my way through the thick brush that was hiding between the trees. From the little bit, I had left to walk to get to the light, I could in fact make out that it was a lamp post. Kind of like the lamp Lucy first sees when she walks through the wardrobe to get into Narnia. Up close it didn’t have a harsh glow, rather a soft white light. It radiated so brightly that when I finally got through all of the brush, I saw that there was a definitive light path surrounding it.

I stood in awe gazing at this magical thing that for the longest time, never understood what it actually was. It just seemed so normal, like any other lamp you would find alongside a sidewalk. As if at some point, it did lead a walk way at night. But there was something emanating from this one, calling out me to come closer to its warm embrace. To take in its unseeingly soft waves. It was drawing me nearer, wanting me, needing me to descend into the hope that it believed it represented.

So, I took a step into the ring of light. Lukewarm transformed into bitter cold. Silence turned into blood-curdling screams. Darkness flashed around me even though I could still see the post in front of me. There was the feeling of a pull down and the cold air began to suffocate me as the screams grew louder in my ears. I began to struggle against the force, not wanting whatever torture and despair that this thing wanted me to fall into. This was not the prospect that I wanted this to give me.

If this lamp was for the true hopelessness of its victims, I wanted no part in it. It was not going to give me the fortune and fulfillment that I believed that I so dearly needed. This light was a true beacon for those wanders, abandoned, and broken souls. It was a signal for those who no longer had hope or aspirations in their lives; it was for the destitute. It was not for those who still tried to hold onto looking for something joyful in their lives. This deceiver was not for those that still had belief and wonder in their hearts.

And that was why I fought hard against the drowning feelings that it tried to encase me in. I held onto the hope that still screamed faintly in my heart, like a lost lamb crying for its shepherd. The determination within me was too great for the despair that wanted to take me under. I fought hard against it, afraid that I was going to let it win.

But then after what felt like an eternity of fighting, I found myself sitting on the outskirts of the lamp’s light ring. I was sitting on the cool ground, looking up at its bright bulb. It was beginning to flicker, something that I had never seen it do before. This ever-constant light was now wavering. There was the sound of cracking filling the air and as I looked around to figure out the origin of the noise, I could see the spidered lines of light in front of me. It was the lamp bulb faltering. I expected it to shatter but it never happened. It just stayed glowing through the cracked glass, occasionally flicking on and off.

This once piece of hope and joy was now showing the true deception that it carried. It was not a beacon for a descend into something for what people thought they needed but rather a symbol of determent. A thing to tell people to keep fighting and pull forward; to keep the hope and joy in your heart no matter how hard life can be. There will always be a land of true happiness where the faults can exist in peace.