The Lighthouse

Shawn wanted to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Ever since their parents had died from an illness, they promised to always be by each other’s side, no matter what.

Shawn wasn’t expecting Edward to choose the path of a lighthouse keeper. Taking care of a lighthouse to help sailors find their way wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but Edward always enjoyed a challenge.

Without hesitation, Shawn joined his brother in his new career, and they began working together starting in the 1890s. Shawn wasn’t fond of the strange name that the lighthouse was given.

The Devil’s Sorrow was what everyone called it. When Shawn asked their boss, Mr. Rogers why they called the lighthouse this strange name, he grunted and told Shawn to get back to work.

Shawn decided to walk away, not wanting to piss off his boss anymore.

He was a tough man to please, but at least he paid them both well.

Shawn didn’t like the fact that other workers didn’t like to work in this specific lighthouse location. He decided to ask Edward one day during breakfast, and he was met with confusion.

“What? I didn’t know that.”

“Didn’t Mr. Rogers tell you about it? I assumed he did, since he really appreciates your hard work.”

Edward rolled his eyes.

“You think that old man ever tells me anything? He gives me some form of compliment, but we’re not as close as you think. I’m not even allowed to go over to that old shack that he lives in over there.”

Edward pointed at the window with his fork, acknowledging another building that was near the lighthouse. Mr. Rogers had actually built it himself, and he gave the brothers the main living space.

Shawn and Edward never bothered to question it; he was their boss after all.

“Really? Huh. And here I was thinking you were getting treated better than me.”

Edward took a drink from his beer, cringing from the taste. Mr. Rogers made the beer, and it never tasted the best.

“No. That old man couldn’t care less about me. He expects us to get the work done…he never offers to help. He just tends to the task of keeping the lighthouse lit.”

“At least that’s one responsibility taken from us.”

Shawn and Edward shared a laugh, grateful that their boss couldn’t hear them. Then they got to work for the day.

They wrote down the records of their supplies, they cleaned any area of the lighthouse, including painting one part of the lighthouse that desperately needed a paint job. Both boys were already exhausted, but they had to keep going. They had to get paid, after all.

While Shawn was helping his brother push a cart of coal, he noticed Mr. Rogers leave his shack. Shawn thought he was imagining things when he spotted the look on Mr. Roger’s face. He looked worried.

He was pacing back and forth in front of the shack, his hands covered in black. Shawn thought it looked like dirt. Edward shoved a shoulder into Shawn’s side.

“Hey. Get back to work. Don’t slack off. You want him to yell at us?”

Shawn complied, forgetting about the odd spectacle. By the time the boys were done, it was now about to be dinner time.

Shawn and Edward went back to their own living space to finally have some sort of rest, exhausted. Edward dabbed at his sweaty face with a rag as he went to the kitchen to begin preparing their dinner.

Shawn didn’t even care if they were going to have the same old stew again, Edward wasn’t a bad cook. Shawn took a peek through the window and spotted a light on inside of the shack. Mr. Rogers was still awake.

Shawn and Edward ate a somewhat good dinner, and headed off to bed for the day. Mr. Rogers task was to look after the lighthouse, so they were no longer needed.

At some point in the night, Shawn had to leave his bed to go take a piss. They had a bucket to use as their restroom, but he didn’t want to wake his brother. He went outside instead.

While Shawn was relieving himself, he looked over his shoulder to take a peek at the shack. A black figure was standing in front of the shack. Two long sticks appeared to be sticking out of the head, resembling horns.

Shawn screamed. He fell on his ass, a sharp pain shooting up his back. Edward ran outside, his eyes wide.

“Shawn? What’s wrong?”

He pointed over to the shack, too scared to even form a coherent sentence.

Edward looked toward the shack.

“Is something wrong with the boss?”

Shawn started to cry. Edward placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait here.”

Edward took off toward the shack. Shawn stayed there, waiting for his brother to return. Edward never came back. Shawn began to panic, and knew that he had to go after his brother.

He stood up on shaky legs, made sure to pick up his pants, and slowly began his journey to the shack. Shawn kept looking around, making sure whether or not that thing he had seen was still here.

Surely, he had imagined the whole thing.

Shawn made it to the shack, and opened the door. He saw two things that made his heart stop.

Mr. Rogers was dead. His throat had been slashed.

Three bloody scratch marks were found on his neck and chest.

He was lying on top of a strange symbol etched into the floor. Shawn couldn’t tell what kind of shape it was, due to the amount of blood staining the wooden floor. His hands were covered in black.

Edward was standing in front of the body.

His back was facing Shawn. He clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to get himself under control.

“Edward? Are you…oh god…what happened?”

Edward didn’t turn around. Shawn took a step closer to his brother, about to reach out and touch his shoulder. Then Shawn saw something that made him scream.

Edward’s shadow resembled the same tall figure that he had seen. He turned around to look at Shawn. A sharp pain shot through his body when he felt something go through his neck.

He fell backwards. Shawn touched his throat. His hands came away red. While Shawn was dying, he saw his brother lift up a knife and cut into his own throat.

The last thing he saw was his own brother dying in front of him.

Their bodies would be found several weeks later. Their deaths remained a mystery, and were concluded to have been done by pirates that possibly found them. What they couldn’t explain was the lighthouse.

It somehow remained lit, even though they had been dead for a while.

Sailors and lighthouse keepers claimed that they never bothered to step foot on that island.

Once you set foot on The Devil’s Sorrow, you would never return.

Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn