October 13th, 2:48 am. At the top of the lighthouse, Lightkeeper Dom rests their foot on the bottom protective railing, leaning on their arms as they search through the mist. If anyone else was up at this ungodly hour on their boat, and could tolerate looking at the rotating light, they may see the intermittent silhouette of the lightkeeper looking out to the horizon. Looking for them.

When Dom took the position of lightkeeper 30 years ago, they were warned of the… unusual circumstances of this particular lighthouse. Aside from the unique layout of the coastline requiring them to reside on a small island some 2 miles from the main shore for prolonged periods alone, Dom was also informed of several disturbing and horrific accidents at sea near or even on the island. But something about this area makes these wrecks come back, constantly searching, trying to return home but forever trapped by the invisible line of the island. At several times throughout the year, every year, Dom meets these lost souls at the pier of the island. They provide supplies- offerings given by locals in the nearest town who are aware of the spectral visitors- and their services as an ear to listen and an expert of the tides to guide the boats back on their way.

The vessels and the spirits aboard them are as varied as the fish in the sea. Dom frequently encounters small fishing vessels of long dead locals, private boats of deceased rich families, hell there are even two pirate ships that Dom helps every year, though the respective captains would loathe to know the other ever arrived on the island. But today is the hardest day for Dom. Every October 13th, at 3:00 am, a small raft drifts toward the island. This early morning is no different. Dom’s strained eyes finally settle on the vessel and they rush down the stairs to the ground level. Once there, they spy the familiar faces of Victor and Evelyn coming toward the dock. Dom takes a deep breath.

“Ahoy,” they call walking to the end of the pier.

“Oh, thank heavens,” Victor cheers, “Maybe you can help us. Our boat crashed and we’ve been adrift for quite some time. Are we… are we finally ashore?”

Dom sighs and shakes their head, “Almost, but not quite. Here,” Dom hands Evelyn a canteen of water, which she and Victor gratefully drink from. “If you keep going a little while longer, you will see the shore.” Dom gives the practiced lie fluidly, after 30 years they’ve learned exactly what to say and how to say it to not make the situation worse. But this particular lie is the hardest. To know that these poor people survived a shipwreck, and floated for who knows how long, only to perish tragically at sea. It’s profound in its spirit of hope and its sadness.

Victor looks in the direction Dom points and nods, solemnly. “Almost there, Evelyn. Just stay strong,” He turns again to Dom, “I don’t suppose you have a sturdier vessel, or some food, which we could make use of, friend?”

They again provide the practiced line, though this one is true. “Unfortunately I’m ferried out here, and I’m not due for shore leave for another 3 months. However, I do have some food.” Dom goes to a nearby shed, placed near the pier specifically for their ethereal guests, and pulls out some jerky and fruit. Again, Evelyn and Victor gratefully take the food.

Evelyn looks up to Dom, tears in her eyes, and says “Thank you for your kindness, we will make sure the townsfolk know of how you’ve helped us.”

There’s a moment of silence, Dom’s least favorite part, before they say “Please, don’t mention it. I’m happy to help, I wish you safety to the shore.” They know the raft will never make it. But as they watch the raft disappear back into the chop of the water, Dom can’t help but sigh in relief. This interaction is done for another year.

Despite these interactions, Dom has stayed for 30 years, the longest consecutive lightkeeper on record. Even the lightkeepers who have come out to take over during Dom’s short leaves don’t tend to stick around. But Dom can’t imagine anything else. There’s a sense of…peace in this life. That they could give these souls some respite from the tides is a calling they happily accept. Even if for a moment in time, only once a year. They sigh and make their way back up the stairs. The sun will rise soon, and Dom will go to bed. But for now they sit in the scanning light, reaching out in the darkness, looking for any more souls that may need guidance.