The lighthouse stood on the edge of a tall cliff, on the north side of the rugged island.

When the tide was low, one could just make out the sandy bench, which stretched over 700 metres, from the main land to the isolated small gathering of land mass, amongst the relentless ocean.

Apart from the lighthouse, there were no other buildings occupying the island.

The Randall’s, had been manning the lighthouse for generations- a trade bestowed upon children and grandchildren, under the scrutiny of the inhabitants, living on the main land.

Arlo, a man in his mid 30s- grew up with the scornful gossip of the townsfolk, on the weekly trips over to the mainland, in order to stock up on supplies.

He, had no time to entertain himself with the opinions of the others and was often described as blunt, quite and introverted.

Overwhelmed, by the expectations of the outside world, it had always been him, out of the three brothers, that was to carry on the legacy of manning the tower.

The three brothers were homeschooled by their mother, until they were given the opportunity to continue their studies, away from the confinement’s of their surroundings.

Stan and Quinn, were itching to leave the island, in search of “normalcy” and to satisfy their hormonal cravings for the other gender.

Arlo however, could be found sanding or painting rowing boats, reading or befriending the sea lions that often could be found lazing along the beach.

He felt the most comfortable, when high tide made it impossible, to cross the distance to the mainland.

His father had told him everything there was to know about the island and the upkeep of the lighthouse, before passing 8 years ago, when he tried to cross the short distance to the mainland and the storms came in.

His grief stricken mother, had moved back to the town shortly afterwards, not being able to bear the sight of their shared isolated home.

Once a week, Arlo would go to his aunt’s house, where his mother lived, for lunch- then he would stock up on supplies and quickly leave back to the island before the waters closed over the pathway.

Today however, things were different as he mounted the little rowing boat, at the jetty.

There was a crowd gathered, in front of a red door, next to Maddy’s bakery.

A green sign in cursive writing above the door, announced „Emily’s Book Treasures“.

His aunt had mentioned, that a young woman and her mother were to move into town.

They were rumoured to be nomads and apparently fluent in several languages, due to having occupied several countries around the world.

Arlo felt magnetised towards the red door and intrigued to update his barren bookshelves, with the promising offer of this book store.

The door opened and a woman in a green dress emerged.

Her hair hung in two chestnut braids, over her shoulders. Her face was open and her blue eyes clear and piercing.

She looked at Arlo, turned around and swiftly walked back inside the shop.

Too stunned to move, he still stood on the pavement, when she returned with a book inside her hand.

She handed it to him, with the brisk warning not to open it until he was back in his home.

Never, before had he climbed the stairs to the lighthouse as quickly, as he did that night.

He took the book out of the brown paper bag and his heart stopped, as he read the title. „Randall Island, a history of the lighthouse guardians“.

How did she know?

A handwritten note fell out, just as the first lightening strike cracked through the grey clouds and the waves crashed along the side of the lighthouse.

„Dear Arlo, by going ahead opening this book everything about your existence will change. You are not just a man with the power to guide ships back to shore with your light but, so much more. You are not the mediocre hermit, you believed yourself to be. Go ahead and turn the pages, then meet me during the turning of seasons, under the oak tree by the jetty- and everything you’ve read will make sense. Emily“

And with that, the thunder started and with the ocean in turmoil, so his inner self started to surrender to the uncontrollable forces, that were to be his destiny.