The Lighthouse Keeper

As the first drops of rain began falling through the forest around her Eve began packing her things. She likes the sitting amongst the trees, the endless land before her makes her feel connected to other people. Something she doesn’t get very often. In fact, the last time she saw another person was almost a month ago when she briefly spoke to the station master as she picked up her quarterly supplies. It began before she even started school. She just never seemed to fit in. High school was the worst for Eve. Isolation she could handle. She was used to being primarily alone. The verbal and physical bullying were something she just learned to endure. But when they attacked her emotionally, she felt like she was dying a little inside. Each day she longed for the world to become this magical place that high school would forget. Teachers would keep saying that once high school was over it would all be different. But it wasn’t. She has never felt that connection with another person. Usually, people would just look at her and snicker to each other. It’s not that she looked very different than everyone else. But somehow, people just seemed to know. It wasn’t anything big. Just a combination of little things.  She didn’t really like sports, she wasn’t particularly great at anything, she would rather use a pen and paper than a computer and she didn’t follow any fashion trends. Growing up, the teachers would tell her that its ok to be unique. Not to be afraid to do things her way, that people would appreciate this about her later. But they didn’t.

After school, Eve tried living in the city. She figured that if she was surrounded by thousands of people every day, and worked with many different people, that she would find someone to connect with. That she would no longer feel so alone. But as it turns out, more people around her just means more reasons to feel rejected. No one at her work spoke to her unless they had to. And she didn’t manage to make any friends in her apartment building. It’s not that people were blatantly ignoring her; they just didn’t go out of their way to get to know Eve on any level. And she did try to talk to people. She really did.  That’s why she jumped at the chance when this job was advertised. The lighthouse keeper. If she was going to be alone, she may as well have beautiful scenery.

So now, two years later and she has lived in this remote rocky outcrop at the edge of a forest, wide expanse of ocean on one side. As she entered the small cottage that adjoined the lighthouse, eve set out to light the fireplace. Hanging a kettle over the fire she set about to make herself something to eat before doing her rounds and pre-checking all the equipment for the lighthouse. Her duty will start at dusk as she is responsible for ensuring that any vessel passing this area does not smash into the rocks surrounding this coastline. There is another lighthouse about 3 kilometres away on a small rock formed island. There doesn’t seem to be any land attached to the island. In fact, Eve is not even sure that the lighthouse is manned. Most lighthouses these days are run through computer programs. But a few, like this one Eve was living in, remained a testament to the past.  The lighthouse on the island is tall, about 55 meters tall. Whereas the lighthouse that Eve is maintaining is only about 10 meters tall. Eve is lucky that she has a full sized cottage attached. It’s quite cosy really, and so comfortable that until her shift begins, Eve almost forgets that she is essentially living in a lighthouse.

As night fell, Eve set about watching the Fresnel lens do its duty. Warning the odd vessel of the impending danger of the rocky shoreline. This was the time that Eve felt less alone than all the others. Although she was still by herself, she could see the lights of the odd boat pass within meters of her perch. She almost felt connected with the human race. After all, her job was very important. For Eve, it meant that she could feel like someone needed her. Someone wanted her. Even if it was only to guide them to safety. She felt wanted. She never felt this during the day.  As she watched the dark waters lap the shores she looked over to the other lighthouse. She wondered if there was someone in there. Someone who felt shunned by the world like she did. I mean who would voluntarily live in isolation if they had someone to be with. She guessed it could be a couple, but deep inside she felt that was not the case. Wiping the condensation from the window, eve looked over again. The lights coming from the other lighthouse seemed to flicker a few times. Almost as if someone was trying to communicate with her. Eve felt stupid, she was sure this wasn’t a message for her, but what if it was. She was not one who could afford to ignore a possible start to a new friendship. She ever so slightly made her lights flicker in a soft Morse code, stating a simple ‘hello’. She didn’t get a response. Eve continued this game for several weeks. She figured, either someone was there and was playing with her, flicking lights at random, or she was genuinely losing her mind. Either way, she felt a little less alone.

During the next supply run, Eve thought to ask the station master if he knew whether the lighthouse was manned or computerised. He informed her that it had not been manned since the storm of 1936; where the keeper was lucky to have made it to the shore alive. Apparently, the waves smashed into the rocks on the island so hard that the spray was battering the lighthouse. Slowly eroding the walls until the keeper decided to leave. Later that night it crumbled in parts exposing the inside to the open ocean, rough in its fight with the rocky island, waiting to take the soul of any creature to meet in Davey Jones’s locker. Then the station master told Eve to be careful as fierce storms were predicted within the next few days. He always warned Eve. Even though she was fairly safe where she was situated, she was alone. Eve thanked him and took her supplies to her cottage, cleaning and getting ready for her nightly shifts.

That night she sighed as she set to work watching the shoreline. She looked at the lighthouse on the island and her heart sank. So she was losing her mind. The flickering was clearly just ebbs and flows in the electrical current. As the reality of her loneliness set in, Eve felt more isolated than ever before. She had to find a way to accept that she would never meet anyone. It’s not like someone was just going to wash up ashore and fall in love with her. She had clearly read too many romantic books for such a thought to even pass her. She sniffled, shed a single tear and sighed. Getting up, she moved about lighting the beacon and setting the Fresnel Lens in motion.

Three nights later, Eve battened down the cottage and lighthouse. As the station master predicted, the dark clouds of a storm started to roll in towards the shore. This was going to be a big storm, probably the worst in at least the last year.

As the black plume of clouds began to engulf the sea, she looked over to the lighthouse on the island and thought of the keeper that battled for his life that night. Eve hoped that he moved back to civilisation, and found someone to share his life with. The surrounding light was lost in the deep grey of the clouds. Turning the end of the day into midnight in minutes. Lightning started to flash across the sky, illumination the coastline for a few seconds at a time.  Then the winds came. The sound was like nothing that Eve had ever heard before. Wailing as it passed the lighthouse from the East. As each clap of thunder shook the very earth the lighthouse sat on, Eve shook as she struggled to keep the light flashing to warn any sailors of the rocks on the shoreline. Although she was not sure quite who would be out in this monstrosity.

Thinking of her parents on the mainland, hours away, she wondered for a split second if she had made the right choice. Then she just as quickly realised that her parents were the only ties she had to the human race. And they were both in a lovely retirement community, playing bridge on Tuesdays and Bingo on Thursdays. That’s right about the time the loneliness hit her again. This time really hard. As she sounded the foghorn each hour – on the hour, Eve felt a piece of her soul float out to sea with the sound. The storm raged on for hours lashing every part of the lighthouse and cottage. Yet is stood. Groaning in agony, but it stood firm. The storm was slowly passing as Eve sounded her foghorn again. Visibility had been a meter if lucky. God have mercy on any vessels out in the bay tonight. For the next two hours the storm faded out, eventually, the sky gave up some stars. Just before dawn, the sky was crystal clear of clouds, the waters still. It was eerie. The stillness and silence were almost deafening. Not even the wildlife dared to make a sound. The ocean barely rippled.

As the sun began to rise, Eve felt compelled to walk outside and check her surroundings. After checking the cottage and lighthouse for damage Eve set out to look around the coastline in both directions. Make sure nothing was washed up to shore during the night. Just as she had walked as far as she needed she saw something on the beach. There was cracked pieces of wood floating about, some made it to the rocks. A row boat. She could recognise that much. What kind of crazy person would set out into the open water in a hurricane type storm? Then the dark mass moved a little. A small groan escaped. As the sun rose over the horizon, Eve could make out the mass. It was a man. Dark hair, medium build. He was wearing jeans and a black hoodie. Rubbing her eyes, Eve looked again and he was gone. There was nothing there, no boat, no wreckage. She was clearly losing her mind. She rubbed her eyes again, but this time, it was all back, and the figure, the man, was moving. That was the moment that eve had decided, whether she was crazy now or not, she was helping this man. And she would talk to him, make a friend. Maybe even more. Because out here. All alone. It didn’t matter if anyone else could see him. As long as Eve had someone to talk to, she wasn’t dying in her own emptiness. Drowning a little more each day. I mean how ironic really. She shouldn’t be drowning in anything. She is after all the lighthouse keeper.