It was a dreary place.
“Cold and windy”, he mused, “but it’s just for two weeks and we could use the money.”
“Ah, she’s a right beauty ain’t she?”, the old man growled happily, distracting Thomas from his thoughts.
“Um…yes I suppose so.”, he replied quietly.
The old, dark, and tall tower was the furthest thing from beauty that Thomas could imagine. Intimidating was a better suited word or uninviting perhaps.
The lighthouse stood upon a cliff, surrounded by boney trees, it was sturdily built with large grey stones and the only stroke of color was the dull red, with which they coated the roof with the attached balcony for the light, the singular door, and the corners of the windows.
“Definitely uninviting.”, Thomas muttered under his breath and shivered as the salty wind assaulted him.
“What’s that?”, the old man called out to Thomas.
“Nothing!”, he replied quickly, not wanting to upset the man who obviously loved this place.
CAAAWWWW! A harsh voice sounded behind Thomas, almost causing him to trip as he turned around quickly.
“What was that?!”, he cried out.
“Quit your shaking boy! Tis’ only a raven. We are upon a cliff, that’s where their lot likes to nest.”, the old man replied.
CAAAAAWWWW! The cry sounded again as the dark bird perched on a crooked tree and fluffed itself as it watched them attentively.
“It’s a lovely bird, I never saw it round our village before.”, he said as he peered at it closer.
“Tis’ a nuisance is what! Always tryin to steal our food and shrieking away for no damn reason!”, the old man grumbled, “Well come along boy! Or are ye content to stand in the damn cold like some fool? The other keepers are waitin!”
“There are others?!”, asked Thomas, relieved.
“Course’ there are others. Ye will go mad stayin here alone! I fair did when one o’ the other keeper grew sick and left. Saw all manners of things. Tis’ a lovely place but no man can live here alone. It’s the spirits ye see, they keep watchin ye and when ye is alone, they come even closer.”, the old man shuddered.
“The age must have gotten to him along with this place.”, thought Thomas, feeling sorry for the old man.
They made their way towards the gates of the lighthouse, it was a rusted thing, creaking loudly as it opened. Apparently, the old man’s affection was for the lighthouse alone.
Two men sat near the door to the lighthouse, shivering lightly in the cold.
“Boys, this here is the man I was talkin about. A smart lad, e’ can help ye.”, the old man called out, patting him on the back.
“Hello. I am Thomas McGowan, but I go by Tom.”, he muttered, feeling annoyed at the attention.
“Oscar Johnson.”, the hulking, big man replied quietly as he leaned against the box with food supplies.
“Me name is Oliver Sir! Oliver Fisher!”, the young, scrawny man spoke excitedly as he fair bounced on his feet.
“Well then, that’s that boys.”, grumbled the old man, “Let me tell your duties. It ain’t an easy thing boys, ye will be responsible for cleanin, cookin and damn near everythin. But the most important duty of yours is, keep a good light! Folks will be dependin on it! Don’t fail them.”, he glared.
“Yes Sir.”, they replied.
“I will be leavin now. Ye will be relieved in two weeks.”, said the old man.
They watched him make his way down the narrow cliff, below which a boat waited for him. They watched till the boat became a tiny speck over the sea.
CAAAAAWWWWW, the raven cried harshly.
Tom looked over at the lighthouse, it seemed to loom even larger.
_____
They carried in all the supplies and started preparing for supper, Oliver efficiently manned the tiny stove in the kitchen, “I used to cook for me and me Ma! She taught me ever since Pa left and she had to work for us.”, he told cheerfully as he prepared the meal.
Oscar nodded along as he set up the table, he wasn’t much for words.
“Before turning in we must check the light. I will take the first watch and ye both can get some sleep. We will take shifts of 8 hours each and switch every week so none of us has the same watch.”, said Tom as he placed the glasses and they sat down to eat.
It was a simple affair of bread, stew, and brandy to wash it all down. They ate quietly, the silence only broken by the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs.
_____
Tom climbed up the winding steps leading to the service rooms. Oscar and Oliver were both asleep in the rooms below, where they had set up their cot and belongings. The steps were narrow, damp and seemed to go on forever, each step taken by Tom echoed around him.
The service rooms seemed to be a mess of pipes and stank of oil. Books were piled in the corner stating various maintenance logs kept by the previous wickies of the lighthouse. There were also some journals maintained stating the day-to-day tasks done by them.
Tom interestedly thumbed through the pages wanting to know how the other wickies went about their day. He was going through one of them when he noticed that some of the pages were missing while some were just plain torn out.
“What is this then? This is just odd. Why would anyone rip out the pages in a logbook?”
Puzzled, he read the remaining entries in the journal.
I replaced the oil in the Light, the lamp should be securely lit.
The storm is approaching, it will arrive by the morn’.
Flynn refused to wind up the horn, his anger has no sensibility. I managed to clean it up.
The fog arrived. The rations are depleting, we can only pray.
The damn foghorn is so loud.
Everything after it was torn away.
A sudden smell of rotting flesh seemed to waft from the journal.
Thoroughly puzzled and disgusted, Tom threw the journal back on the table, feeling uneasy.
“Storms….I hope we don’t have to deal with one.”, he muttered as he went about his duties of cleaning the lamp and maintaining the light.
_____
Within a week the men realized it was not going to be easy, the continuous shifts drained them, the night watch, the lamp, the waves, the bloody ravens, all of it. It was exhausting.
Tom was bloody done. He couldn’t wait to get off the damned rock. No amount of money was worth this aggravation, he stank of salt and oil, the food was never enough, sleep was impossible – what with the wretched birds and the sounds of the sea – and a sense of foreboding and uneasiness.
At least only a week more was left, he was grateful for Oscar and Oliver. The old man was right, he’d have been driven to madness if he was here alone.
_____
“Three more days lads! Then we are done!”, Tom cried out.
“Yes.”, Oscar nodded, taking a swig of his drink.
“I can’t wait to sleep in me bed again without fearing drowning!”, Oliver replied as he shivered, he hated the water.
“Why did ye want to be a wickie if ye hate the water so much?”, Tom asked.
“Well, we needed the money and I always wanted to see the place, what with the stories and all.”, Oliver replied.
“The stories?”, asked Tom, puzzled as he looked over at Oscar. He looked just as lost as Tom.
“Well, it is no big secret, many keepers have vanished from here and nobody knows why. Me Ma says it is because one of the keepers who died here cursed this place!”, said Oliver looking at them scared.
“Foolish! There is no curse boy, pray for forgiveness, to even think in this manner is sinful.”, scoffed Oscar as he went to bed for his nightly prayers.
Tom had been surprised to know the religious side of Oscar, but to each their own, thought Tom. He was far more interested in the story.
“Who died? And what happened?”, he asked.
“Well, me Ma told the story when I was a wee lad. So, I don’t remember all of it, just parts of it. Way back, when this tower was young, there were two keepers. But one of the keepers died and another vanished. They found his body in the siren room, mangled.”, Oliver said in a hushed voice while looking over his shoulder at Oscar, who was ignoring them.
“They only used to keep two keepers before but since then they keep three.”, he continued.
“How did the keeper die?”, Tom asked, curious.
“No one knows. Some say the other keeper killed him. Some say some creature got him. But no one knows, except the other keeper, but he was never found. This place is cursed they say.”, Oliver whispered.
“Cursed?”, Tom asked.
“Yes, since then no keepers lasted more than two weeks.”, said Oliver, now looking a bit scared.
“Well, we don’t need to last more than that, just a couple o’ more day’s lad, cheer up.”, said Tom trying to ease the boys’ fears.
“That’s the thing you see, the two weeks never end. That’s the curse.”, he said, shivering slightly.
“Tis’ only a campfire story lad, don’t put much stock into these things.”, Tom laughed, patting Oliver in comfort, and getting up to go to bed.
Oliver shook his head, trying to clear his fears and crept into his own bed. As he tried to fall asleep, he looked out the window, a raven was perched atop the ledge outside and was watching him. He watched it for a few moments, feeling uneasy he turned away from it and fell asleep.
_____
“Dammit! Why now?”, Tom cursed as he tried to close the windows. They shook in the wind and the rain assaulted the lighthouse.
“There were no signs. How can there be a storm so quick?!”, Oliver asked
“Tis’ a storm! O’course it doesn’t come with a warning. Now be useful and bolt the doors!”, Oscar yelled as he ran to watch the light.
Tired and exhausted, Tom and Oliver went up to help Oscar. He was leaning near the railing, looking blankly at the water. The rain poured over him.
“Oscar? What are you doing man? You’ll catch your death!”, Tom cried out.
“Hmm? Oh nothing, but look, the rain is slowing. You know what that means?”, he asked grinning from ear to ear.
“What?”, Oliver asked, feeling disturbed by Oscar’s behavior.
“Fog, lad. Fog.”, he chortled.
“The boat can’t arrive.”, Tom whispered, feeling sick.
“What do you mean?”, Oliver asked again, “It will clear right? In a while? Right?”, he continued in a panic.
“O’course o’course lad. What is that smell?”, Oscar spoke distractedly as he patted Oliver’s shoulders and continued downstairs, whistling.
“What’s wrong with him?”, Tom asked to himself as he looked at the weather outside.
“Oliver, we best prepare the siren. We will need it tonight lad.”, said Tom as he readied the oil for the engine.
“Tis’ the curse. I told you the two weeks never end.”, said Oliver, looking pale.
“Oliver! Now is not the time. There could be boats out there! Come now, Oscar will tend to the light.”, Tom replied as he continued downstairs to the engine room as he swallowed his own fears.
_____
The siren was a loud thing, wailing away into the night, warning the boats and ships of mother nature’s anger.
Tom and Oliver worked tirelessly to keep the engine running by lubricating it and maintaining the compressed air in the tank.
Oliver sunk to the floor, his arms shaking in exhaustion and fatigue. His ears rung from the noise.
Tom shut the door of the engine and slid to the floor gasping and covered in sweat. The siren would ring in five-minute intervals.
“Oliver, go check on Oscar, he’s been there for a while. Switch with him, the man might be fallin asleep up there.”, Tom whispered hoarsely, his tired face lit with the dim light.
“Yes Sir.”, he replied, sounding equally tired.
Tom continued to stare blankly at the flickering light as the sound of Oliver’s’ footsteps faded away into the dark.
“Sounds like death.”, mused Tom, as the siren sounded once more. Toms’ eyes flickered close as the exhaustion took over and his consciousness faded.
The siren sounded almost soothing now; a beacon for rest.
_____
Tom woke up with a gasp.
“When did I fall asleep?!”, he thought as he got up shakily, “How the hell did I manage to do it with all this damned noise?”
The siren was still blaring away into the night.
Coughing, he left the room to get something to eat. As soon as he left the room, he knew something was wrong. It was too quiet here, too dark. Even the sound of the siren wasn’t heard.
“Oscar? Oliver?! Lads can ye hear me?”, he called out as he walked around.
“What the hell is happening? Where’s the damned candle?!”, he cursed under his breath as he searched for the candles.
CAAAAWWWWW!
Tom yelped in fright, lighting up a candle quickly, he turned towards the sound. It was the raven, perched over the railing. It was watching him attentively, its beady black eyes focused on him hungrily.
“Shoo! Shoo! Away ye mangy thing! How did ye get in?!”, the bird continued to watch him.
Tom felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up as he continued to stare at the bird, feeling uneasy he looked away and quickly made his way up the stairs.
As he climbed up in the dark, the realization dawned upon him.
The light wasn’t lit anymore.
He stopped on the stairs; the flimsy light of the candle flickered. The darkness seemed to almost swallow him whole. Shivering, he held on to the candle tightly and made his way up the stairs.
THWACK, THWACK, his footsteps echoed as he made his way to the light room and finally stopped at the door. It was partially open, more darkness poured out from it, chased away only by the tiny pinpricks of light from the candle. Tom gingerly pushed the door open further and walked in.
“Oliver! Oscar! Where are ye?! What happened to the light?! Answer me dammit!”, he yelled as he made his way towards the light. The door to the big lamp lay open, the lamp itself was shattered beyond repair, parts of the glass littered the floor.
CAAWWWWWW!
Tom stumbled back, surprised. It was the raven, staring at him.
“What is going on?”, he whispered as he backed away inside, “Oscar?! Oliver?!”, he called out again.
CAAAAAAWWWW! The wretched bird yelled again, Tom pulled at his hair in frustration, “Shut up! Be quiet!”, he threw a book from the table at it, it merely fluttered its wings at him. The feeling of wrongness began to take over again as he moved away from the bird, the candle held tightly in his hands. Suddenly he tripped over something, a body.
It was Oliver, but something wasn’t right, he moved the candle closer and wished he didn’t. He was horribly mangled, as though he was bent around and broken like a mere toy.
“Just like the keeper.”, he almost fell on his back as he tried to get away from the body, the fear choking his throat.
“No, no, no.”, he repeated as he clenched the candle, the wax burning his fingertips.
THWACK, THWACK, the footsteps echoed. Tom paled in fear.
A large body walked in. Tom sighed in relief; it was Oscar. “Oscar! Where were ye?! What happened? Oliver…..he…the lad is dead!”
There was no answer from Oscar, he just stood still in the dark.
“Oscar?”, for the second time in the day Tom moved the candle closer and wished he didn’t. Oscar, well he didn’t look right anymore. He was grinning. Happily, from ear to ear.
“Oscar, what are ye smiling for? Oliver is dead! Oscar….did you..?”, the fear clawed at him now, he started backing away slowly.
“I saw him, Tom.”, Oscar said, looking excited.
“Saw who?”, asked Tom.
“I saw the Lord. Can’t you smell him? He’s so close.”, suddenly he could only smell rotting flesh, the strength of it almost made him gag.
“Oscar did ye kill him?”, he asked.
“No! He did! Oliver doubted our Lord. He had to be punished!”, Oscar said, sounding happy.
CAAAAAAWWWWWW! The smelling of rotting flesh grew stronger.
Tom felt so tired, he held on to the candle.
“Did ye break the light?”, Tom whispered.
“Yes!”, Oscar replied, still happy.
The smell was now unbearable.
“Oscar, ye spoke to no Lord.”
CAAAAWWWWWWW!
The candle slipped from Tom’s hands, briefly illuminating a face behind Tom.
Oscar’s smile fell in horror, the light winked out, and the screaming began.
_____
“Blasted water! Can’t get no rest”, the old man growled as he reached the cliff to the lighthouse.
He strode briskly towards the lighthouse, intent to escape from the cold. Reaching the door he knocked sharply on it, he received no response.
“Dammit! They had better not be drunk at this hour. Lads! Are ye in there?! We need to leave before the weather turns!”, receiving no response he unlocked the door with his own keys and entered.
It was too quiet, but the smell was unmistakable.
“Nooo….not again!”, howled the old man!
He made his way to the light room, it was a mess of bones, blood, and flesh.
CAAAAAAAAAAWW!
“Will ye never forgive me?! I have paid me dues! Damn ye!”, he cursed, the raven stared at him coldly.
He continued to curse as he cleaned what he could and threw everything into the sea.
Turning around he looked at the crumbling lighthouse, the bricks falling apart, windows broken, and the paint faded due to the passage of time.
“T’was a mistake, I never meant te kill ye, I only wanted to leave.”, he whispered into the wind
The shattered light turned on once more, cutting brightly through the sky.
He could never leave.
