The Lightkeeper

It was a steep path that led up the cliff to the lighthouse, so by the time I arrived at its door, I was deeply tired and sore from walking.

But I admit, the trip might have been worth it just for the view of the coast below. My boat, so small, anchored just off the shoreline. The appraiser, still counting, oblivious to the beauty of the surrounding beach.

I knocked on the iron door—clang clang—yet no one answered. I tried again, harder this time. Still no answer. I wondered if the lightkeeper had fallen asleep.

I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. So, I knocked again, hoping the noise would annoy whoever was on the other side enough to let me in.

Soon enough, I heard footsteps pattering down the stairs.

"Go away!" a voice called from inside.

I jumped back, startled by the sudden noise. "Please, wait!" I pleaded. "I'm a lost traveler, and I need directions."

A long silence. Then, the click of a latch. The door opened, and through it was an old man, perhaps in his seventies, with dark skin and bald hair. He looked as weary as I was, if not more.

"Directions to where?" His impatience was palpable.

"To the nearest town, if you please. Sir." I was desperate for bearings.

The older gentleman looked me over, then said. "I don't direct people. I direct ships."

Despair. He sounded like the appraiser.

"But... there are people on ships. The ship can't receive guidance without people on board." I tried to explain, rapidly losing hope.

"No, I can only guide ships." The old man said, with finality. "It's my duty, as a lightkeeper."

I tried again to plead my case. "But... surely you can point me in the right direction? I'll pay you back, I promise."

"You want a direction, I say up the coast. I think you'll find what you want there." The lightkeeper said, not letting me get a word in. "Now go. I must get back to my duties."

"Wait, sir... I still don't know where I am. Please. Help me." I begged.

The old man looked at me, and I could see the pity in his eyes. He opened the door wider. "Very well. I don't want you to die out there. Come in."

"Thank you!" I said, and entered the lighthouse. It was a round room with a staircase that spiraled upwards. The room was filled with all kinds of objects, from ropes to barrels to maps. Everything was well organized, almost as if the lightkeeper was preparing for an emergency. The low ceiling made it feel rather cramped, so I could see why he didn't like having visitors.

The man walked up the spiral stairs, and I followed him. When we reached the top, he opened a small door to the outside. I saw the ocean in all its glory, the waves crashing against the rocks below.

The old man pointed to the north. "The town of Cant is that way, about 10 kilometers upcoast. If you follow the road, you'll get there."

Following his arm, I saw a road leading out of sight, just past a nearby hill. The road to civilization.

"Thank you," I said. "I don't know how to repay you."

The man shrugged. "Just be careful out there. The road is dangerous, and there are bandits about."

I nodded. "I will. Thank you again."

I turned to leave, but the old man stopped me. "Wait," he said. "What is your name?"

"My name is Jules," I said. "Jules Rider."

The old man nodded. "You're not from around here, are you, Mr. Rider? You came from across the ocean. I saw your boat. You're a brave man to come here alone."

"Yes, I'm a..." The words caught in my throat, as if it knew it was a lie before I did. "I'm a navigator. From California."

The lightkeeper raised an eyebrow. "A navigator? Why a navigator, and not a sailor? Or a captain? Where is your crew, Mr. Rider?"

I hesitated, then lied again. "It's just me. I'm the only one who made it across the ocean."

The man looked at me with a curious expression, then he nodded. "You aren't the first. I landed here in the '70s, on a boat not unlike yours. Alone."

"You too?" I asked, shocked. "You came from the States?"

The old man sighed, and a faraway look came over his face. "New Orleans. Ever been? It was a hell of a place. Jazz music. Creole cooking. Mardi Gras."

"Never been. But I've heard of it," I replied. "You say you've been here, in this world, since the '70s?"

"It was the year 1972 when I left. I don't know how long it's been since then." He replied. "I lost track of time, you see. There's no way to tell, not here."

I could tell then that the lightkeeper was a lonely man. Stranded in a strange land, never to return home. And so was I, it seemed. The thought should have disturbed me more than it did.

"But how is that possible? How did you even get here?" I asked, wanting to know the truth of this place.

"Wish I knew. They say Occasia can only be found by a lost soul. That was me. Lost, and in search of a new home." He looked out to sea, his eyes distant.

"Occasia... what is Occasia?" The old man had given me the name of a world I didn't know I was in. I needed to understand.

"Occasia is a continent. The one between all the others. The one that isn't on the maps, but your heart knows it's there." He looked at me, his eyes filled with sadness. "The people here don't care where you are from. North, South, East, or West. 'There is beauty in all directions,' they say. And they don't care whether you're Black or White. Male or Female. Tall or short. God bless them for that."

He paused, then let out a deep sigh.

"But they aren't infinitely tolerant, either. They become fixated on ideas, believing they have found the secret to life itself. Like that man on the beach."

"The appraiser? The one counting the sand?" This was starting to make sense.

The lightkeeper nods. "That's Sandy Andy. He works for the beach company. And I'm Francis, but you can call me Frank." He offers his hand, and I shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Frank."

Frank looks back out to the sea. "I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep this lighthouse going. I'm getting too old. But I don't want to leave. I've seen so much, experienced so much. I don't know if I could go back to Louisiana."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if I could go back to my home either. But I had a feeling that I wouldn't find my answer here. "Maybe you don't have to go back," I said. "Maybe this is where you belong."

Frank smiled, a sad smile. "You know, I think you might be right. Someone has to keep the light alive."

A moment of silence passed between us, then Frank turned to me. "You should get going, Mr. Rider. The road is a long one, and you need to get to town before dark."

I nodded. "Thank you for your help, Frank. I truly mean it. You've given me hope."

"Don't thank me, son." He gave me a pat on the shoulder, then returned to his lonesome work. "Just get there in one piece. And watch out for rocks."

I turned to leave, taking one last look at the endless sea before beginning my journey to the town of Cant. I do not know this land, but I have found a friend here. Perhaps that is worth more than all the sand on the beach.