In the heart of storm-lashed Florida, a retired folklore professor recounts a haunting tale to a quiet pub-of a river journey, a vanished pirate, and a light that lures rather than guides.
Drawn by whispers of an alchemist-pirate named Captain Elias Lassiter, Alistair Dunning arrives in Bradenton to investigate a stretch of river steeped in shadowed history. What begins with dusty church ledgers and brittle sermons soon leads him upriver to a place forgotten by maps, where fire leaves no ash and cannon echo in the thunder.
What he finds there-or what finds him-defies explanation.
Told in the chilling tradition of M.R. James, The Channel Light is a slow-burning ghost story woven from folklore, historical fragments, and the uneasy hush that follows a storm. For some legends, it seems, still drift with the tide.
"Don't go upriver after dark," the boatman said. "The Channel Light doesn't warn you. It calls you."
