The safe glowing beacon of the lighthouse, holding strong against the rough sea winds
and battering waves, ready to guide the ships through the harsh, jagged rocks laying in
wait for a vessel, whether steel or wood- anything to sink its teeth into, the lighthouse is
the patron saint of all sailors.
One night plagued by endless rain and almost hurricane winds the light goes out. The
complete darkness strikes fear into the heart of the captain at the helm of his tanker
desperately trying to guide his crew back home.
At the same moment the lighthouse keepers abandon their game of Scrabble, the tiles
flying everywhere, and begin to sprint up the spiral stairs, using the handrail for extra
power on their run. They scale the ladder and are through the hatch in record time
running straight to the tools and to locate the fault.
Not five minutes has passed. The captain sees the glorious beam and the crew erupt in
They make it home that treacherous night.
The keepers draw at Scrabble.
There’s a rematch tomorrow.
Sat on a bench in the not so hurricane like wind, eating sandwiches and drinking tea out
of a polystyrene cup is a far cry from that stormy night but just sitting and watching the
red white red white, light of the lighthouse brings a lot of things to mind.