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- Herausgeber: Christopher T. Winters
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
Calm Poetic Gentle Magic for Quiet EveningsStep into a world where lanterns do more than shinethey remember.In CT Winters newest collection of soothing night stories, The Lanterns That Remembered Us invites readers into ten softly glowing tales about healing, memory, and the quiet light we carry inside ourselves. Each lantern appears in a different corner of the world: on an old stone bridge, beneath a willow tree, drifting across a meadow, resting in a forgotten library, glowing at the edge of the sea.Every chapter offers its own moment of peacegentle, slow, and deeply comforting. These stories are crafted to be read before sleep, during moments of overwhelm, or whenever the heart needs a soft place to rest. Winters signature poetic prose brings warmth to the night, reminding readers that even in darkness, something tender watches over us.Perfect for fans of calming fiction, magical realism, reflective prose, sleep stories, and emotional comfort reads.Each lantern holds a memory. Each story holds a truth.And somewhere between their glow, you may find a part of yourself you forgot.Let the night soften.Let the light return.
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Seitenzahl: 47
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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The Lanterns That Remembered Us
Where Light Holds the Stories We Forgot
by Christopher T. Winters
Imprint
Author:Christopher T. WintersThorsten FrenzelFinkenkruger Straße 214612 FalkenseeGermany
E-mail: [email protected]
Responsible for content (German law §§ 5 TMG / 55 RStV):Thorsten FrenzelFinkenkruger Straße 214612 FalkenseeGermany
Copyright Notice
© 2025 Christopher T. WintersAll rights reserved.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This applies in particular to: – reproductions – translations – microfilming – digital storage – processing in electronic systems
All characters, places, and events in this book—unless explicitly identified as historical—are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Foreword
There are nights when the world feels quieter than usual—when the sky breathes slowly, and even the shadows seem to listen. In these moments, memories return not to trouble us, but to remind us of what we once loved, feared, or simply forgot to notice along the way.
The Lanterns That Remembered Us is a collection of gentle stories shaped from that quiet glow. Each lantern in these pages holds a small truth—warmth, hope, softness, or the simple reminder that even in our loneliest hours, we are made of light we haven’t yet learned to see.
These stories are meant to be read slowly, like whispered lullabies or small rituals before sleep. They ask nothing from you—only that you breathe, soften your shoulders, and let the night settle around you like a familiar friend.
May these lanterns guide you back to the parts of yourself that still shine, even on the days you feel dim. May they bring you peace, stillness, and a place to rest your thoughts.
— Christopher T. Winters
Chapter I – The Lantern on the Old Stone Bridge
Mira had always liked the old bridge, though she rarely admitted it to herself. It was nothing remarkable—just a small arc of weather-worn stone crossing a narrow river that whispered more than it rushed. Children passed it in summer. Joggers in autumn. A few lonely souls in winter who needed to hear the water breathe beneath their feet.
But at night, the bridge belonged to the quiet ones.
And on the evening Mira returned there, the world felt heavy around her, as if the sky itself had not yet decided whether it wanted to rain or simply sigh. She walked with slow, tired steps, her thoughts wrapped tightly around her, unaware of the cool night air drifting through the trees.
The day had been long. The week longer. Her heart felt like a cluttered attic she didn’t have the strength to sort through.
It was then that she saw it.
A glow—soft, golden, almost shy—rested at the center of the bridge. For a moment she thought it was a trick of nearby streetlights, or perhaps moonlight caught on wet stone. But the glow held its place, steady and warm, like a candle someone had forgotten to put out.
A lantern.
Small. Simple. Frosted glass. An iron frame smoothed by hands from years long gone. Inside it, a flame burned with a steadiness impossible in the restless wind.
Mira hesitated. Not out of fear—rather disbelief. The bridge had never been a place for things like this. It had always been a place to move across, not a place to stop.
Yet the lantern looked as if it had been waiting for someone. And somehow, impossibly, it felt as though it had been waiting for her.
She stepped toward it, one quiet footfall after another, until the glow brushed the edges of her coat. The warmth wasn’t physical—it reached inward, not outward.
When she touched the handle, the world around her shifted.
The river fell silent. The wind stilled, held as if cupped in gentle hands. Even the distant hum of traffic faded into a hush. Only the golden glow remained.
Mira inhaled slowly, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for days—maybe weeks. The light didn’t brighten; it didn’t reveal visions or secrets. Instead, it did something much quieter.
It remembered.
Not memories in pictures—memories in feeling. A childhood laugh. Warm hands guiding hers in a kitchen smelling of cinnamon. The softness of being held when life was simpler. Moments she had forgotten not because they were unimportant, but because the weight of everything else had buried them.
The lantern didn’t show her the past. It reminded her of the comfort she once carried within herself.
A single tear escaped before she could stop it—relief, not sorrow.
She didn’t know how long she stood there—minutes, hours, or something in between. Time moved differently inside the lantern’s quiet glow. When the flame finally softened, gently encouraging her back into the world, she set the lantern down exactly where she had found it.
The flame flickered once—like a small nod of understanding.
The wind returned with a sigh. The river resumed its whisper beneath her. But Mira felt different.
She crossed the bridge with lighter steps, not because her worries had vanished, but because she no longer carried them alone. The lantern had taken a little of their weight—just enough for her to breathe again.
At the far end of the bridge, she turned and looked back.
The lantern still glowed, waiting for the next quiet soul who needed to be remembered.
Mira whispered a soft “thank you,” carried away by the river’s gentle current.
