The Lighthouse

One stormy, dark, winters evening many years ago there was a party for the noisy villagers. In the lighthouse sat an old, miserable man called Alexander Keefe. He sat at an old, rusty table with a candle alight, writing letters to his long, lost brother. He shut the window so he could not hear the happy people laughing and cheering. Suddenly the massive, bright lighthouse bulb blew out and a silence fell over the whole village. The window flew open and the candle on Alexander’s table quenched. Scared, frightened, terrified he ran up the slippy,spiral staircase to see if there was a spare bulb lens. He lifted the bulb from the stand and stupidly stumbled over his toolbox and the lens smashed to bits. He heard a ship horn and saw that it was gradually coming closer and closer. He sprinted down the stairs and to his disbelief he saw all the villagers with lanterns coming towards the lighthouse. Everyone cheered as the ship passed safely.

All the villagers were delighted. Alexander thought they were not so bad after all. It was a risky and scary night. By Emer Murray