The Keeper of Light

For decades, the lighthouse at Puffin Bay had been left alone, yet every couple of months, the beacon sprang to life, slicing through the dense fog like a quiet yell. It was a mystery that no one bothered to solve.

Except for Daniel.

He felt the pull of the tower, as if something inside the rusted structure was summoning him through the wind flavored with salt. When the light was seen one autumn night, an eerie cobalt glow in the inky blackness above, he sensed that it had been decreed somehow that he would be the one to go.

The ascent of the rugged cliff was dangerous, but Daniel embraced the challenge. His boots crunched on frozen grass as he approached the door to the lighthouse, which opened with a groan at his touch. Inside, the smell of decaying sea life mixed with some acrid scent that made something deep in his gut twist and turn.

The shattered windows let moonlight pour in and flood the spiral staircase that wound upward, illuminating a space that was—almost like a tomb, Daniel thought. Was it about this place the townspeople had whispered fearfully when he was a kid? Had his dad even brought him here? These were not questions he had wanted to think about on the long drive here, only to find that the lighthouse loomed even larger in his mind now as he stood before the door.

Daniel dismissed the stories as mere superstition. But as he climbed higher, the atmosphere became warmer and thicker, almost like honey, and his skin began to tingle and buzz with static. The light up top grew ever more intense, spilling out through the cracks in the lantern room above.

At the summit, he became motionless.

The gigantic, long-presumed-to-be-damaged Fresnel lens was whole, and it was alive with an energy that was very much not natural. Inside the lens—its interior a sort of liquid space that amplified whatever thing was in it and made it brighter, weirder, and more dangerous—something was looking out at him.

What? He almost opened his mouth but then remembered the last time he had done that with this thing in his head.

His physique quaked. His form shook uncontrollably. His system spasmed. His aspect writhed. His body was in upheaval.

Agony blossomed in his heart, his arteries gushing with light. His fingertips felt like they were on fire, slitting open, and pouring forth radiant substance from the fissures. He attempted to give voice to his pain, but his mouth wouldn’t open, and instead of sound, there came a low growl, as though the creature he was becoming were haunted by the urge to be human.

The change was a slow torture. It felt like his body parts were shedding and curling away. In some parts, flesh, skin, and hair had been lost, and now the insides were coming apart. In some places, the remains of some of his body parts were found. The tender strips were coming with unimpeded force and speed. The parts of him that were coming apart were bouncing around and curling in on themselves.

Then, he understood.

The lighthouse was not deserted. It was teeming with life. It had an insatiable appetite.

The lens consumed souls, enticing those who pursued its enigmas and disassembling them into prime energy. The beacon was fueled not by flame, but by anguish by those it remade.

Daniel's sight wavered as his physical form fell apart into a shower of light. He felt like his thoughts were scattering everywhere, pulling taut until the memory of being human slipped away from him. The next sensation he had was the knowledge that he was somehow existing as the bright thing now, the glow in the night, the shimmering of something terrible and awesome.

And below, in the still town, another soul was moved, beckoned by the unearthly light that was shooting through the dark. It was the same as the last time, and the time before that, and the time that would stretch unbroken, round and round.

The lighthouse would always have a keeper.

Author's Note:

The Keeper of Light is a reflection on the fragility of existence, the darkness we all harbor within, and the flickering flame of hope that sometimes feels just out of reach. This story emerged from my fascination with the shadows that lurk in the corners of our lives and the courage it takes to confront them. I wanted to explore the delicate balance between fear and courage, light and darkness, and how, even in our most vulnerable moments, we hold the power to make choices that could alter the course of our journey.

Writing this piece was an emotional endeavor, especially as I sought to evoke a sense of suspense, while also contemplating themes of inner strength and self-discovery. I hope this story resonates with you as much as it did with me during its creation, and that it leaves you with a sense of both unease and wonder.

Thank you for reading, and as always, your thoughts and feedback are deeply appreciated.

— Jason Benskin