The Lighthouse Keeper's Log
Shaina Tranquilino
September 22, 2024
Day 1
The sea is restless tonight. Waves crash against the rocks below, and the wind howls through the lighthouse, rattling the windows. Thereās a fog rolling in, thick and suffocating. I can barely see past the edge of the cliff, and yet⦠there it is again. A light. Flickering, out on the horizon.
Itās faint, but unmistakable. A ship, perhaps, though no vessel should be this far north in this weather. Iāve sent out the usual signalāno response. Odd. But perhaps theyāre just out of range. Iāll keep watch through the night.
Day 3
The light returned again last night. Iām beginning to doubt my senses. It moves, not like a ship, but with a strange, deliberate rhythm. It disappears beneath the waves, only to reappear moments later, closer. I watched it for hours, mesmerized, trying to understand what I was seeing.
I reported the sighting to the mainland, but the response was dismissive. āNo known ships in the area,ā they said. āPossibly a trick of the light.ā A trick of the light. Am I imagining it?
Tonight, I will keep detailed notes on its movements. Something is out there. I can feel it.
Day 5
Iāve barely slept. The light comes each night, always at the same time, always in the same place. Tonight, it was closer than beforeātoo close. The rhythm has become more erratic, almost like itās⦠signaling.
I know how this sounds, but I swear the light is alive. Itās watching me. Waiting.
Iāve started hearing things, too. Strange sounds beneath the crash of the waves. A low hum, like a voice just out of earshot, whispering through the fog. Iām not sure what itās saying, but it fills me with a dread I canāt shake.
I tried to ignore it, to focus on my duties, but my mind keeps drifting back to the sea, to the light. I feel as though something is calling me. I must stay vigilant. I mustnāt let it draw me in.
Day 7
I saw it clearly tonight. Not a ship. Not a flare. Something else. Something unnatural.
It rose from the depths, a glowing orb, hovering just above the waterās surface. The light it emitted wasnāt like anything Iāve ever seenāpale and cold, with an otherworldly sheen. It pulsed slowly, in time with my heartbeat, or so it seemed. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to look away.
Then, I heard the sound again. Louder this time. A voice, no longer a whisper. It spoke my name.
I ran inside, bolted the door, and shut all the windows, but I could still feel it. Watching. Waiting.
Day 9
I dreamt of the sea last night. Dark and endless, stretching out in every direction. The light was there, beneath the surface, pulling me down. I woke gasping for air, drenched in sweat.
I canāt shake the feeling that the light is getting closer each night. Thereās a madness creeping into my mind, twisting my thoughts, making me doubt whatās real and what isnāt. Iāve tried to contact the mainland again, but the radio is dead. The storm last night mustāve damaged the lines. I am utterly alone out here.
Iāve started keeping the lantern lit at all times, but it does nothing to ease my fear. The light outside grows stronger. Itās as if itās challenging me.
Day 11
It spoke again tonight. Louder this time. Clearer. Not my name, but something else. Words I didnāt understand, but they echoed in my mind long after the sound faded.
I went outside, against my better judgment, to face it. The fog was thick, but the light cut through, illuminating the shore in that same eerie glow. It was waiting for me, just beyond the rocks.
I called out to itādemanded to know what it wanted. No answer. Just that same pulsing light, drawing me in.
It wants me to follow. I know this now.
Iām losing my grip on reality. I can feel it, slipping through my fingers like sand. But I have to know. I have to understand what it is.
Day 13
The light is in my dreams now, constant and unyielding. Itās no longer content to stay on the horizon. Last night, it hovered just outside the lighthouse, bathing the walls in its cold glow.
I couldnāt help myself. I went outside again, to the edge of the cliff. The waves crashed below, and there, in the water, it waited. But it wasnāt alone this time. Shapes moved beneath the surfaceādark, sinuous forms, circling the light like moths to a flame.
I stood there for what felt like hours, watching them. Watching it.
I could hear the voice again, louder than ever, and for the first time, I understood. āCome.ā Thatās what it was saying. āCome.ā
Day 14
Iām not sure how much longer I can resist.
The light calls to me, day and night. I hear it even when Iām inside, whispering through the walls, through my thoughts. It promises answers, secrets hidden beneath the waves. I am so close now, I can feel it. The truth, just beyond my reach.
But the cost⦠I fear what it will demand of me. My mind, my soul, my very being. It would be so easy to give in. So easy to let go.
I must stay strong. I mustnāt follow. But the light, itās always there, waiting, watching.
Day 15
This will be my final entry.
Iāve made my decision. The light will not be denied, and I no longer have the strength to fight it. Iāve seen what lies beneath the waves, and it is beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful.
There are things in this world, in this universe, that we were never meant to understand. I know this now. But the light has chosen me. It wants me to see.
I will go to it tonight, to the edge of the sea. To the place where the land meets the water, and the sky meets the depths. I will follow the light, wherever it leads.
And when the fog rolls in, when the tide pulls me under, I will finally know the truth.
The lighthouse was found abandoned the next day. The keeper's boat was missing, though no sign of it or him was ever discovered. The logs remain, his final words a mystery, unsolved and whispered about by those who dare to keep watch at the edge of the world.