"The Long Winter: Voices in the Lighthouse"

The year was 1800, and the icy winds howled relentlessly around the lighthouse perched on the barren cliffs of Nova Scotia, Canada. Inside the solitary beacon lived Matthias and Wilhelm, two men bound by necessity to maintain the light that guided sailors safely through the treacherous waters.

“There are so many months until spring,” Matthias thought as he stared out the window, watching the waves crash violently against the rocks below. The lighthouse was their fortress against the elements, but it was also a prison. They had enough supplies to last the winter—warm clothes, food, and matches aplenty—but no amount of preparation could stave off the creeping madness brought on by the endless solitude.

Wilhelm had always been the quieter of the two, a man of few words but steady hands. Matthias had respected his stoicism, thinking it a strength. But as the weeks dragged on, Wilhelm's silence grew unsettling.

It started with small things. Wilhelm would pause in the middle of tasks, staring off into space as if listening to something Matthias couldn’t hear. At night, Matthias would wake to the sound of Wilhelm whispering, his voice low and urgent, as if in conversation with an unseen presence.

“Wilhelm, are you alright?” Matthias asked one morning, his concern barely masked. They were eating breakfast, the cold wind rattling the windows.

Wilhelm looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “I hear them, Matthias. Voices in the wind. They’re calling to me.”

Matthias felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “It’s just the wind, Wilhelm. The isolation is playing tricks on your mind.”

But Wilhelm was insistent. “No, Matthias. They’re real. They’re out there, in the storm. They need our help.”

Matthias tried to dismiss Wilhelm’s claims, attributing them to the strain of their confinement. He focused on their routine, hoping the familiarity of their duties would ground Wilhelm. Yet, each night the whispers grew louder, and Wilhelm’s fixation deepened.

One night, the storm outside reached a fever pitch, the wind howling like a chorus of lost souls. Matthias was jolted awake by a loud crash.

“They’re out there! They need us!” Wilhelm shouted, his voice a desperate plea.

Matthias grabbed him, pulling him away from the door. “Wilhelm, stop! There’s no one out there!”

But Wilhelm was stronger than Matthias anticipated. With a surge of strength, he broke free and flung the door open. The freezing wind tore into the lighthouse, carrying with it a cacophony of whispers. Matthias felt a surge of panic as Wilhelm ran out into the storm.

Grabbing his coat, Matthias followed, the cold cutting through him like a knife. He struggled against the wind, his vision obscured by the swirling snow. He called out for Wilhelm, his voice swallowed by the tempest.

Through the blinding snow, Matthias saw a faint light ahead. He stumbled toward it, finding Wilhelm standing at the edge of the cliff, staring into the abyss. Matthias reached out, grabbing Wilhelm’s arm.

“Wilhelm, please! Come back inside!”

Wilhelm turned to him, tears streaming down his face. “They’re gone, Matthias. I couldn’t save them.”

Matthias pulled Wilhelm away from the edge, his heart pounding. “There’s no one to save, Wilhelm. It’s just us.”

Back inside the lighthouse, Matthias bolted the door and stoked the fire, trying to banish the cold that had seeped into their bones. Wilhelm sat by the hearth, his eyes vacant. Matthias watched over him, the weight of their situation pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The days dragged on, each one a battle against the encroaching madness. Wilhelm’s condition worsened, his mind lost to the voices that only he could hear.