hi im chern

It’s odd, unnerving almost. With everything you did, it felt like that house itself was watching.

Today was one of those days, the wind screamed furiously outside and beat against the windows. Your kettle sat on the stove, whistling over at you when the water had reached a boil. You weren’t looking forward to lighting the lamp today. Not with how the rain was starting to pound. As you let your tea brew you tried to remind yourself that even the old, slightly miserable lighthouse had a purpose. Warn sailors on their way. Even though those sailors had modern technology and could very well get on without the outdated lighthouse to send them flickering messages of land.

Finally, the sun was just a whisper past grey clouds, and you started to make your way up the steps. You pulled your coat tight around you, trying to not scare yourself out of the nightly routine. The house groaned as you reached the heavy metal hatch. Truly, it was like the building could speak, or complain rather. With one last huff, you unlocked the door and shoved it out of the way.

Instantly, you were slapped with the chill of the storm. Even with your coat you could feel the cold crawl up your spine like a physical touch. “Come on, come on.” You muttered, hastily making your way to the lamp and trying to ignite the flame. You twisted the knob and it clicked without a spark. “No no no, please don’t do this.”

Click. Click. Click.

“Oh for fucks sake! You prehistoric sonofabitch!” Wind pressed up against the glass around you, screaming back at you so loudly that it almost felt as if it was right in your ear responding.

“Fuck!” You turned, slipping back through the hatch and slamming it shut behind you.

Damnit, you didn’t even know anyone in town yet, who were you supposed to call if this shit happened. You weren’t trained for this! You rushed back through your home, running to your kitchen and flinging open a drawer to find that familiar piece of paper.

Emergency numbers:

John Price (neighbor)

Johnny McTavish (maintenance)

Kyle Garrick

Simon Riley

Johnny McTavish… you pulled out your phone, hastily dialing the number and then pressing the humming device to your ear.

It rang once….

Once more….

“Fuckin hell, keeper. What the fuck could happen at this hour?” A gravelly, Scottish voice grumbled through the phone.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry…. Wait. How did you know I was the lighthouse keeper?”

There was a long pause, you couldn’t even hear breathing on the other end. “I donnae hand my number out te many people.” He explained simply, there a quick shuffle of fabric and then the creak of springs. “What’s wrong, lassie?”

“I uhm-“ you pressed your lips into a thin line. “The torch won’t light.”

There was a small hitch of breath on the other line, and then the sound of rushed footsteps. “I’ll be there in five. Donnae leave the house.”

He hung up, leaving your phone silent against your skin. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You growled against it.

The walls of the house seemed to press in around you, like something bad was looming right around the corner. That was ridiculous though, right? You were the only person on this shore, besides John, who you hadn’t even seen since move in day. The rain pattered against your windows, filling the space with the sound while you sat down on your couch.

You clutched your mug in your hands, sipping on re-heated tea. Who would this “Johnny McTavish be?” You wondered, maybe some old vet who had retired to live in this sleepy town. Maybe some scary guy who was creepier than the night on the shore.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The front door rattled a little, starting you out of your day dream. “Coming!” You set the mug aside to be forgotten and rushed over, opening the door just a crack before the wind shoved it aside with punishing force.

Just outside, standing in the darkness, was a man with the hood of a coat pulled over his head. “Come in, come in!” You ushered, frantic to get out of the colds grasp.

He remained frozen like a statue for a moment, then his head tilted. “You should be more cautious who you let in your house, lassie. Some nasty folks live about these waters.” The man, who you figure was Johnny by the sound of his voice, stepped inside at last. Water dripped off his coat and onto his tough, leather boots, but still, you couldn’t see his face past the hood.

“Thank you for coming Mr. McTavish, I’m sorry for bothering you so late.” You mumbled quickly, grunting as you forced the door back into place.

“Mr. McTavish?” A low, chuffing laugh rumbled out from the hood. “Oh no, lassie, none of tha’”, he reached up, finally pulling off the hood and turning towards you. “Just Johnny’s a’right.”

Holy Mary mother of God. This man looked like the ocean itself had blessed him. His jaw was sharp and highlighted by a dark beard that also framed his full lips. His eyes were as sharp as a hawks, yet the blue within them was so bright that the sky might be jealous of him on some days. His hair was as dark as his beard, but it was cut short on the sides of his head, leaving a longer strip down the center.

“H-hey-Hi…” the words tumbled clumsily off your tongue, as if they were your first.

He smirked a smirk that has surely made hearts melt before, “hey there, Bonnie. How about we see to gettin this light fixed aye?”

You nodded, but even as you tried to hide it you could feel the blush that was heating your cheeks. Goddamnit, you couldn’t do this. Be an adult. Be an adult.

Johnny turned, lumbering back over to the stairs as if he had done it a billion times before. “‘Ave te give it to ye. The house looks good.” He commented, he boots loudly coming down on each step.

“Thanks…” you followed, desperately trying to keep your voice even and normal. “I haven’t really done much to it.”

“Yes ye have.”

The correction was abrupt, almost like he thought he knew better than you. For a moment, you wanted to protest. But before you could say any more he was at the hatch and flinging it open.

The wind greeted him with a raging slam against the glass windows around you. Instantly, the cold swelled and filled the entire stairwell. Johnny stepped forward, his broad back to you while his hands fidgeted with something. “Why don’t ye stay inside, Bonnie. It’s a wee bit too cold for a little lady like yerself.”

Instantly, you felt torn between his flattery and the innate curiosity you still held for him. But the slap of the rain against the all too thin glass barrier was enough to convince you to take the offer. So you closed the hatch and turned to head back down to the kitchen.

Your mind felt like it was in a tangle. The simplest of things became difficult to understand. Like John, the neighbor you never saw, who lived in a house you couldn’t find. Or Johnny, the man who almost seemed too at home and in tune with your house. You moved to the counter, still lost in thought while you made some hot coco. Surely Johnny would like a little treat for his efforts.

You poured each cup and stirred in the mix, trying to ignore the way the house seemed to tense around you. It was just your mind playing tricks. There was no one watching, there was nothing odd. You were just tired. Quietly, you grabbed Johnny’s cup and crept up the stairs. When you opened the hatch, it felt almost lighter than before, like someone had been sitting on top of it the past two times it’s been opened.

Johnny was right where you left him, hunched over and eyeing the mechanics of the light. But there was something odd… a murmuring? It was a hum so full that it seemed to consume the space with a sort of buzz. Hidden within the sort of tune were words, none that you could recognize, but a lulling, flowing tongue. Gaelic?

In a flash, the torch flickered and then burst to life. In the same second, everything went silent and Johnny straightened.

“Thank God, I thought it was a goner.” You murmured, but he jolted as if you had screamed it at him.

“Christ, lass.” He turned back towards you with a bit of a wild look in his eye. He seemed to correct himself, smoothing a hand over his coat quickly before speaking again. “Y-yeah, you shouldn’t have any problems.” He shifted, and gathered himself. Only then did you notice that he hadn’t brought any tools.

“I made some hot coco.” You mumbled, your voice almost naturally more careful than before. “I figured some extra compensation was in order.”

He paused again, and his eyes seemed to soften a bit. “Thank you, tha’s real kind of ye.” His voice was soft, but it carried a bit more sadness than before. For what, you did not know. He stepped forward and gently grabbed the mug from you, his fingertips briefly brushing against yours as he did so. “C’mon bonnie, let’s get you back inside.”

Dare you say that the house felt at ease now, like you had called a doctor, not a mechanic. When you both returned to the kitchen it was like the space had let out a sigh of relief. The room was warm, and the lighting warmer. No longer did it feel like eyes lingered in the darkness. No longer did you feel like you were holding your breath.

“Much better,” you murmured after a few quiet minutes where you both enjoyed your coco. “How much do I owe you?”

Johnnys eyes flicked up from where they had been watching one of the windows. For a second, his brow furrowed, and then he almost seemed to realize something. “Take a peek in your top right, cabinet,” he gestured vaguely, “there should be a pouch in there.”

With a bit of confusion, you followed his directions, flicking open the cabinet and rummaging around before your fingertips closed around a small, leather pouch. “One coin from that’ll do.”

The pouch was heavy in your palm, but soft, like the leather had been worn down over many years. And when you opened it, heavy, iron coins clinked together. Each one was ornately decorated with small carvings depicting something like an octopus in the center, and swirls of tentacles that trapped a number of other creatures in their grasp. “These are cool,” you commented, passing one of them over to him. “Are they worth much?”

“Not to many,” he answered, pocketing the coin and pulling his hood back over his head. “Thanks for the coco, Bonnie.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for fixing the light.”

Still, you felt like there were a billion questions right at the tip of your tongue. Like there was one big factor that you weren’t seeing, something that would change how you saw these confusing little details. But without much more of an explanation, Johnny was back out the door and disappearing into the night.

There was something odd about this place. Something like you had never felt before. Soon, you would figure out what, you were determined to do so.