The orange streetlights cascade overhead in even intervals as she presses down the dark coastal road. A few other cars pass in the other direction and she wonders if she's doing the right thing. Her youngest is sound asleep. Her brother is awake and gazing out at the passing sea that melds with the dark horizon beyond. Occasionally she catches him looking at her in the mirror. Wondering what they are all doing out this late. Where they are driving to. What all that commotion was at home. He's probably wondering where his dad is. So is she.
They pull into the short gravel road and the crackling of the stone under tire wakes her youngest. She carries her to the lighthouse with her son walking behind. Finds the keys under the plant pot. Still there after all these years. She hurries them inside, casting one last look at the night around them. Just a solitary light haloing her parked car and the distant streetlights below the hills beyond.
Inside is cold. Their footsteps echo up the spiraling tower. The first thing she does is check the doors. Two at the front and two at the back, on the sea side which lead down concrete steps to the pebble beach below. All bolted shut. Good. She finds them an old office room to sleep in. Sets out the sleeping bags, pillows, and a handheld night light. Tells them this is just a little adventure. Won't last forever.
Upstairs she finds the bulb. Inert crystal in a cage. To her surprise it still works. Almost blinds herself when it groans to life and starts it's slow, mechanical spin.
This is the place she thought of first, when it all started. Hasn't been used for years. Been even longer since she last saw it, back when she was a kid. She wonders who owns it now. And if they'll come back. And what state they'll be in.
She steps out onto the metal balcony that surrounds the bulb, into the cold night bluffs. She scans the forested coast, dark and mutable, and wonders what may be unfolding beyond the limits of her vision. The city glows dimly on the horizon. The colossal beam of light passes her, momentarily lighting up the trees. She half expects something to be revealed there. But there is nothing but her imagination.
The light is what she thought of most, at the time. It's the only thing they fear. She can only hope that fear exceeds their only desire.
Paddy Dobson
29th December 2021