The old lighthouse
(Edited)
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The old lighthouse looks like a stone dragon throwing its fire in the form of light towards the sea.
I don't know how long it's been there, but it has been important for everyone, because on nights when the moon falls asleep or goes to other places, it's the one who, like a sharp knife, breaks through the darkness with bursts of seconds.
Hundreds of stories have been invented in the town that involve him with ghosts and fleshly beings that visit him at that time and even some sailors claim that they have seen a person with an outstretched arm that greets them from the top of the same, which is why no one dares to get there when the stars and the moon do not illuminate the sky or when the storm takes over the nights.
That's when he escaped from my confinement and I go there and sit for hours on the horseshoe-shaped dock that holds him.
I've always been fascinated by the noise the waves make when they reach shore or hit something that breaks them.
The sea has a mysterious charm, an attraction that may have been born from the beginning of the creation of species and has remained in people's genes, which is why many love it and others hate it.
The first kiss I gave him and I was given him lying on his stone structure when he was barely eleven years old.
She was fifteen and visiting her parents at a neighbor's house, it was love at first sight, although at that time she didn't know what it was.
One afternoon we escaped and like thieves who have not planned their misdeeds but imagine it and transmit it mentally, we took refuge inside the installations of the lighthouse.
We introduced ourselves and climbed the stairs, for a while, like birds that explore the vast expanse of the sea, we were motionless, like salt statues observing the swaying of the tides and the colors that the rays of the sun impregnated on the surface.
She boldly took me by the hand and I, naïve and nervously accepted it.
Then we went down and for minutes that now seem to me eternal we hugged, kissed and clumsily caressed each other.
The voice of the old Tobias, who looked after the facilities surprised us and we reacted by escaping like two inmates fleeing from the law.
It was the last time I saw her, an unforeseen event caused them to travel that same night and a hole of the magnitude of a black hole remained in my stomach.
At fourteen I began to work as an assistant to an old fisherman, forced by the unexpected death of my father, as he was the only son.
After my mother's death, a few years later, I joined the navy and fulfilled my dream of sailing the world's seas like a seagull.
I returned to the old family house three decades later and routinely visited the lighthouse on dark nights.
Death reached me, as did my father unexpectedly, but my new state of disembodiment has not prevented me from maintaining my habit of reaching the old lighthouse and contemplating the sea.
From time to time I meet Tobias and the first lighthouse keeper who lived there when it was built hundreds of years ago.
He is not very talkative and it is his custom to go up to the place where the light installations are located and greet the boats that pass nearby.
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So the legend is true, it seems.
"some sailors claim that they have seen a person with an outstretched arm that greets them from the top of the same"
Thank you for posting this haunting story in the Ink Well community. And we thank you for engaging meaningfully with other members of the community.
There's some beautiful writing in this story, @joseph1956.
It's so melodic! I felt lulled into a magical slumber by the end.
I wonder if his first love will join him when she passes.... It would be so sad to never be able to leave a property, no matter how beautiful, wouldn't it?
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So truly, there were ghosts at the lighthouse.