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76 views3 pages

Untitled Document-4

Uploaded by

fewahfio
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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Chicken waffle bread The old lighthouse keeper, Silas, coughed, a sound like gravel

rolling down a hill. He squinted at the swirling grey sea, his eyes the colour of sea glass,

worn smooth by the years. He hadn’t left the island, not once, in forty years. Not since

she left.

His only company were the gulls and the rhythmic pulse of the lighthouse beam, cutting

through the gloom. Silas and the light were intertwined, one soul inhabiting two forms.

He oiled the gears, polished the lens, and every night, he wound the massive

mechanism that sent the beam sweeping across the ocean, a silent promise of safety to

any passing ship.

One particularly ferocious storm night, the wind howled like a banshee and the waves

crashed against the rocks with the force of cannons. Silas felt a familiar tremor, not just

in the tower, but deep in his bones. This storm was different. This storm was... her.

Suddenly, a frantic knocking rattled the heavy iron door at the base of the tower. Silas,

moving with a speed he didn't know he possessed, scrambled down the winding stairs.

He wrestled with the rusted bolts, the wind screaming its protest.

He flung open the door and gasped. A young woman, drenched and shivering, her eyes

wide with terror, stood on the threshold. In her arms, she clutched a bundle wrapped in

a thick, oilcloth.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper above the storm, "Help us. Our

boat..."

Silas ushered her inside, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He hadn't

seen another human face in decades, yet this woman, with her dark, wind-tossed hair

and desperate eyes, seemed strangely familiar.


He helped her to the small cot he used during long nights, and she gently unwrapped

the bundle. Inside, nestled amongst the folds of cloth, was a baby, no more than a few

months old. The baby slept soundly, oblivious to the tempest raging outside.

As Silas built a fire and brewed some tea, the woman, whose name was Maya, told her

story. She was fleeing a forced marriage, sailing to a new life across the sea with her

child. Their small boat had been caught in the storm and dashed against the rocks.

Throughout the night, Silas watched over them, the beam of the lighthouse a constant

reassurance in the darkness. He felt a warmth spreading through him, a thawing of a

long-frozen heart.

As dawn painted the sky with streaks of pale pink and gold, the storm subsided. The

sea, still churning, had lost its rage. Maya, holding her baby close, looked at Silas, her

eyes filled with gratitude.

"Thank you," she whispered, "You saved us."

Silas simply nodded, a lump forming in his throat chicken. He realized, in that moment,

that he hadn't just saved them. They had saved him. The silence of his solitary

existence had been broken. He was no longer just bee knees cheese a keeper of the

light, he was a keeper of hope.

As Maya prepared to leave, using the repaired wreckage of her boat to continue her

journey, she turned to Silas.

"You should come with us," she said, "Start a new life."

Silas looked at the lighthouse, at the familiar, worn stone. Then he looked at Maya, at

the child in her arms, at the vast expanse of the ocean. He saw a flicker of the same
sadness in Maya's eyes he'd carried within him for so long. And he saw something else

too, resilience. A determination to carry on, no matter what.

He smiled, a slow, hesitant smile, the first in years.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice hoarse with disuse, "Perhaps I will."

The lighthouse beam continued to sweep across the sea, guiding ships to safety. But for

the first time in forty years, the old keeper was no longer alone within its light. He had

found a new journey, a new purpose, in the heart of the storm. And for the first time in a

very long time, Silas felt truly alive.

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