A boy used to live on an island with his family, where his father was stationed as a newly appointed officer to take care of the lighthouse. In a quiet night when everyone was asleep, a storm brewed in and engulfed the happiness of that family, leaving the innocent 11-year-old with just enough ration to survive.
The next replacement officer was to come in 5 years as the island was way far away from the mainland and thus the boy had to bury his parents and continue taking care of the lighthouse on his own.
He spent 4 years in complete isolation with just the sound of the raging sea at night. He would eat his daily ration and continue to look after the lighthouse.
One morning he found a girl washed up ashore near the rocks. He ran to her and checked her vitals, she was still breathing, so he brought her in. He made the warm bed near the fireplace in the small cabin he lived. By the end of the day, the girl woke up and hugged him. She told him she doesn’t remember how she got lost at sea, and she has no memories of her past.
They started to work together, taking care of the lighthouse, holding each other’s hand in tough nights and rationing to provide a meal for both of them.
By the end of the 5-year term, a boat carrying the replacement officer came to the island. Upon reaching, they met with the graves of two adults in front of the cabin. Stepping in, they found a horrid stench filling up their nose. Under the rug, they found the body of the boy, skinny and partly decomposed. They found enough ration to have kept him alive, folded in the bed near the fireplace.
They buried him near the graves of his parents, locked the cabin and went back to report.
About The Author
I write what I feel I have felt.
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