The Lighthouse That Kept Time

By: Ashley Sawh

The lighthouse at Mariner’s Point was never supposed to shine again. Its lantern had gone dark twenty years ago, after the last keeper retired and storms carved the cliff into something sharp and dangerous. Everyone in the village said it was better that way—safer, quieter, forgotten. But fourteen-year-old Lina disagreed.

She visited the lighthouse every afternoon after school, climbing the winding, cracked steps with her backpack bouncing against her shoulder. She loved the silence. She loved the view. And most of all, she loved the feeling that the tower was waiting for something—like it still had a purpose no one else could see.

One rainy evening, while lightning stitched the clouds together, Lina pushed open the lighthouse door and froze. Someone had lit the lantern.

The great glass chamber glowed like a second sun, warm and golden. A figure stood beside it—tall, unfamiliar, wearing a dark coat dripping with rainwater. He turned slowly, as if he had been expecting her.

“You’re late,” he said calmly, as though this were the most normal thing in the world.

“Late for what?” Lina asked, clutching her backpack straps.

“The shift,” he replied. “Every lighthouse needs two keepers. One to watch the sea. One to watch the time.”

Lina blinked. “Watch the time?”

He nodded toward the lantern. “This lighthouse doesn’t guide ships. It guides moments. It keeps the world running in the right direction.”

Before Lina could protest, the lantern flickered—and suddenly the sound of the storm faded. The air around them shimmered like heat above a road. When she glanced out the window, the waves below looked frozen in mid-crash, suspended like glass.

“What… what did you do?” she whispered.

“I paused it,” the keeper said. “Time. Only for a moment. The world slips sometimes. Loses its balance. Our job is to steady it.”

Lina felt her heartbeat thudding in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she should run or stay. But something inside her—some quiet, stubborn bravery—held her feet in place.

“Why me?” she asked. “Why am I part of this?”

The keeper smiled gently. “Because you came here when everyone else forgot this place. Because you believed it still mattered.”

The lantern’s glow softened, and the storm outside rushed back into motion—waves crashing, wind howling, rain sliding down the glass.

Then the keeper stepped aside. “Ready for your first lesson?”

Lina took a breath. Then she nodded. The lighthouse hummed like a living thing.

And somewhere far below them, the world continued turning—steady, bright, and just a little more in balance than before.