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The Whirling Light

  The Whirling Light

  The lighthouse light whirls in the darkness of the night. It casts shadows with twisted fingers and backs bent backwards. I can't breathe! There's something in the air, suffocating me. I don't know what to do. The lighthouse light whirls among the crashing waves. Someone is staring at me from the windows. His fiery eyes burn my soul. I must sleep, but it doesn't come to me. Maybe it has lost its way, like so many ships with no light to guide them. That's why the light must whirl and whirl.

  When I first came here, the sea sang to me. Now, it only screams. I want to run, sleep forever, or dive into the ocean—anything to escape this place. But Louisiana, my wife, says she will come in the morning. I must wait. The ocean, with every splash, comes ever closer like a snake stalking its prey. I tell myself it's all in my head, but isn't everything in one's head? No one has seen what I have, for no one is ever here. I am all alone, and yet everyone is here with me. I can feel them glaring at me from the shadows.

  “I lit up the light! Leave me alone!” I shout into the darkness. Silence kisses my eyes—the thunder roars, and lightning tears the sky. I run into a dark corner and hug myself. Even God spites me. If I don't hug my legs, they'll fall off. The light emits something. It whispers to me, poisoning my mind. I punch my head. “Get out! Get out!” Maybe I can make a hole large enough, it'll all go away.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  No ship ever comes here, at least not at night. Or maybe I don’t notice them. I must clean the lighthouse, make my food, get the fuel for the light, and stop this decrepit structure from falling. But I make the light whirl. That’s my only job! Or it should be.

  “Where are you, Louisiana?” Thunder roars like cannon fire, and rain comes like little diamonds falling from the sky.

  I think the sun had come out, for light pierces through the holes in the rusted walls. But not for me. My mind is still dark.

  “Jacob!” Louisiana says. Her rosy red dress looks just like the demon’s eyes. But her bright face, with sapphire eyes, makes her look like an angel.

  She pulls my arms. “Let go, Jacob. Let me see your face. What happened?”

  “Stop,” I say. “My legs, they’ll fall off.”

  She takes my face in her hands. Her warm touch fills the cracks in my cold skin. “Look, the sun’s out.”

  I turn around, and the sunlight blinds me. Tears, like a stream, flow from my eyes. She hugs me, and my eyes fall on the light. It has stopped whirling.

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