The Light House

“And no one ever saw her again…”
I looked around at the circle of small faces surrounding me, looking back and forth from one another, pretending not to be scared. But their bulging eyes told me otherwise. I smirked to myself.
“Okay. You all should get home now. Your parents will get worried.”
We all stood up and walked out from under the tree, ducking to make sure the huge branches wouldn’t hit us. As the kids walked off in the separate directions of their houses, each one of them turned and glanced in the direction of the lighthouse, looking back quickly so the others wouldn’t notice. My sister and I stood back, and waved goodbye. Once they had all walked off, she looked up at me, the little bit of fear still in her eyes.
“You know, how ever many times you tell that, you still scare me.”
“Yea, I know. And you still love it, Amelia.”
She laughed. “We should get inside too. Mother will be mad if we’re late to supper again.”
I sighed and nodded, not wanting to go in yet.
We walked quickly up the paved sidewalk. Our shoes clicking as we went. As we walked into the house the smell of fresh bread filled out noses.
“Ah, you two have decided to come in, I see.” Our mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Sorry Mom.” I said, trying to sound sincere. “We lost track of time.”
“I’m sure you did. Now, wash up. Supper will be finished in about ten minutes.”
I ran up the stairs to the bathroom. I quickly washed my hands and face and moved over for my sister. When she was done we walked to the kitchen again. Just in time to see our father walking in.
“Daddy!” my sister squealed as she ran up to give him a hug.
“Hi sweetheart.” He said as he hugged her back. “And hello Eliza.” He said as he looked up at me. I smiled and walked over to him, hugging him as well.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Dinner!” my mother reminded us, as she ladled soup into the last empty bowl on the table. We took our seats hastily and smiled at each other. We hadn’t had a dinner with our father in weeks. We talked about our day’s in between bites. My father told us about an upcoming storm. And how he would be up at the lighthouse allot in the next couple of days. None of us wanted to hear that, but we had gotten used to it in the past couple of months. Amelia told about how one of the boys in her class had gotten a new pair of shoes and how everyone seemed impressed, when they really weren’t that nice. Yet a pang of jealousy was in her voice. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“We’ll get you both new shoes when the season is over.” My father promised, nervously looking at my mother. “There’s no use in getting them now. Especially with all the rain. They’d be ruined in a week.”
My sister seemed to believe this, and went back to nibbling on her piece of bread.
“And did anything exciting happen to you Eliza?” my father asked.
“Not really. I got an A+ on my English test from the other day.” I answered.
I was one of the only girls still in school in town. Most stopped after primary school was over, but my Father insister on me continuing.
“And what  kept you two out so late?” my mother added.
“We were just –“
“Eliza was telling us the light house story again.”
My sister blurted out innocently. I kicked her from under the table. She immediately looked sorry.
“Again?!” My mother said angrily.  I still hadn’t figured out why she hated the stories so much. But every time she found out I was telling them, she just about blew up.
“Oh, come on Anne. They’re just stories. No harm in telling them.” My Father tried to help.
“No. You scare your sister, and everyone else. Do not tell the stories anymore.” She said, ending the conversation.
After dinner, my sister and I cleaned the kitchen. My Father had to go back up to the lighthouse. When storms were coming he had to keep the light going brighter than normal. So he had asked us to bring up extra oil. I hadn’t remembered the buckets being this heavy. So the climb up the spiraling staircase seemed to go on forever. Right before we were turning to walk back down, my father grabbed my shoulder, and turned me around.
“Don’t worry about what your mother says. Keep telling the stories. She’s just afraid that some kid’s gonna come up here and start something.” He smiled and picked up the buckets. I smiled back and walked down the stairs.
By the time we had climbed down the stairs it was very dark out and it had begun to rain. We ran back up to the house, our dresses were sopping by the time we reached to house. When we got in Mother told us to wash up again and go to bed. It seemed to take an hour to strip off all the layers of the wet, heavy dressings. I got into my night gown, and went out to the porch to hang the sodden clothes. I stood on the porch for a while watching the drops splash in puddles around the yard. I went back up to my room, and lay in bed. My Mother came in and told me good night. I wasn’t really tired, so I just stared up at the ceiling for a while. My room got very hot. So I lit a candle and went over to the window. I opened it and sat on the sill, which was covered in the lacey pillows; my mother occupied her time sewing.
There was a wet breeze blowing, and it felt good against my face. I looked up to the lighthouse. The story from before floated into my mind. I had never really thought about it. But now, it seemed very creepy. I thought about that for awhile. And about what my Father had said about why my Mother didn’t like the stories. I guessed it could make kids go up there… But I couldn’t see how much harm it could be exactly. I thought about that for awhile. Than about how every thing surrounding the history of the house was kept so quiet. Maybe the stories were true. It could make sense…
Then I heard something in the distance. It was faint, but it sounded like a woman screaming. “Help… oh, please someone help!” It sounded like it was coming from the lighthouse. I stood up, but than sat back down. My Father would help her. “Please… someone!” Why hadn’t her gotten to her yet?
There was a noise below me. I looked down. My Father had just walked up to the porch and was walking in the front door. “Help!”  I heard him walking up the stairs. He walked into his room.
“What are you doing back this early?” my mother asked, sounding startled.
“I put all the oil into the light. And the storm is calming down. The light will keep going for tonight. And no ships are due in for two days. I figured I could come home.” He whispered. “Help… please!” The yells were getting louder. I heard my Father lay down.
How can they not hear her? I thought to myself. I picked up my candle and walked to my door. I slowly opened it and crept down the stairs, not wanting to get caught. When I finally got down to the front door, I was in the clear, if they were going to notice, they would have noticed me going down the stairs. I quickly slid out the door, the harsh wind took me by surprise. I ran out into the yard, with big, hard raindrops pounding on my head. I thought he said it had stopped raining? “Help! Please! Oh god, somebody help!” The screams were getting louder still, they were defiantly coming from the lighthouse. I ran faster. By now I must have looked like a wet cat. My dress clung to my body, and my hair flopped around, hitting me at times. I yelped. I was barefoot and had just stepped on a big rock. I bit my lip and kept running.
“HELP! PLEASE!”  It was louder still. I could now see the lighthouse. I could see the woman, she was running around the top balcony in a white dress. “HELP!”  It was deffintly coming from her.
“Hold on! I’m coming!” I yelled as loud as I could.
She didn’t seem to hear me. She just kept running.
“I’m coming! I’ll be right there!” I yelled louder.
She still didn’t hear me.
I got up to the door of the lighthouse, and heaved it open. My candle had gone out along time ago, I threw it on the ground. The light from the beacon at the top shone down to the bottom. I looked up at the 10 flights of stairs I was about to climb. I took a deep breathe and ran.
“Help! Please! My daughter!” she screamed, and shivers went down my back.
That made me run even faster. Her screams had gotten more frantic. Everything was quiet except the pounding of my feet against the steel stairs, the wind beating against the side of the structure, the sound of the woman’s shoes clicking around on the balcony and her screams.
I was half way up now.
“Help! Please! My daughter!”
I wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying now. I was trying to focus on every step, my clothes were dripping, making the stairs wet, so I had to concentrate to not slip.
There was only one flight left.
“Help! Please! My daughter! She’s fallen!”
I was halfway to the door when she said this. I leaped into the doorway of the balcony. I blinked a few times. The lady was standing in front of me, panic on her face. She had long wavy black hair, and bright red lipstick with black mascara running down her cheeks along with tears and rain drops. She was younger than my Mother, and very pretty.
“Oh, thank you! You’re here to help!” she franticly yelled at me.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the railing. She let go and pointed down the rope that was used to pull up supplies while the lighthouse was being built. There, about a quarter of the way down, was a little girl. Her hands were gripping a huge knot that was put their so the buckets couldn’t be passed up anymore. Her hair was covering her face, but I could tell she was crying by the shuddering of her shoulders. The rest of her body hung almost lifelessly.
“Uhm, excuse me mam. But what exactly do you want me to do?” I asked nervously. I couldn’t figure out how I would help her. The lady turned around and picked up a huge basket, that seemed to come out of no where.
The next seconds went by too quickly for me to stop them. She hooked the basket up on the pulley system on the rope. She walked back to me and picked me up and put me in the basket.
“You’ll be part of the story now, darling.” She said, almost singing.
I felt as if a ton of bricks had just been thrown at me. Everything started to make sense.
The story.
The lady in white, the storm, the screams only I had heard, the little girl. Everything. I even fit the role perfectly; I was the Light Keeper’s oldest daughter. I almost laughed at my stupidity. I had blindly run when I heard the screams, without any question, I kept running even when things didn’t make sense. But now it made sense. Everything did.


“And no one ever saw her again…”
I looked around at the circle of small faces surrounding me, looking back and forth from one another, pretending not to be scared. But their bulging eyes told me otherwise. I smirked to myself.