September 21.
The days have begun to blur. If not for the diary and my attempts to keep my thoughts together I fear the fog may claim my sanity. In the evening, if I can figure out the difference between night and day in this terminal twilight, I have begun to hear the refrain of Fur Elise, played on a solo piano somewhere in the distance. After a while the sounds of clanging metal can be heard on the dock, with muffled voices of both men and women shuffling about. I can hear a bell ringing on the hour, sounding at once next to me and yet off in some unseen distance. The noise is disturbing, mixed with the sounds of the surf and the creaking of the light tower. It took a while but I looked outside to see what I could, and almost fell backward over poor Casey.
There were blue-ish lights, dozens of them, seeming to mill about in the dense precipitation. The voices were still muffled, and I couldn’t make out anything distinct. There was a knock on the door, which startled me more than anything, and I approached the door to see who or what was there. It was a man in his sixties, with a wet white beard and hair, wearing a soaking wet navy peacoat and black pants. His eyes were at once vacant and remorseful, as if the burden he carried wrenched his soul from my world to his. There was a strong smell of low tide in the room, the salty smell of decay given by the sea as it receeds for a six hour respite. Then he reached a hand out, pointing to me, and started to speak. It looked like his mouth was moving, but a whisper was all I heard, and the words were almost more than I could stand. She waits, repeated over and over in a low whisper. I closed my eyes and covered my ears, but the words echoed in my skull until they reached a deafening crescendo. When I finally dared to open my eyes, all the lights were gone. The voice was silent in my head, and when I took my hands from my ears, the only thing I heard was the soft whimpering of my poor dog, and the haunting refrain of a solo piano in the mist.
September 25.
This is to be my last entry in this journal. My muse has left me, and so has my reason to stay here. The supply boat has been delayed yet again, so the isolation continues. I have started saving the fresh water for Casey, and have rigged a system for her to be able to get to the food as she needs it. For my part I find I have lost my appetite, and only drink the rum and other spirits left behind by the previous keepers. I am careful to drink enough to ease my thirst, but not enough to impair my judgment. The light is running well with no real need for a keeper, and everything I can do to keep the house as tidy and in good repair has been done.
My midnight guests have continued to visit me. I am convinced the life I thought I wanted ended the day Melissa was taken from me. Instead of being a refuge for writing, this place has become a horror and a testament to my own despair. I was foolish to try to run from it, and my only solace now is to embrace it.
It’s funny, after I leave I won’t give the place a second thought, and yet I have spent the time nesting like an expectant mother, cleaning as if expecting an arrival of an infant. I will miss Casey, though. She has been as faithful a friend as anyone could want, and it hurts me to think she will be alone. If I’m right, it won’t be for long.
It won’t be long before Melissa arrives. I will not let her go this time. This time, when she leaves, I plan on leaving with her. This time, I won’t suffer her loss as she walks out the door. To you, the unlucky reader, I pray that you arrive here in time to please take care of my dog. She is a good girl, and deserved better than to wind up on this God forsaken rock.
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Captain’s Log, Hemisphere Dancer
Sept. 30, 2010
Arrived at Light 1430h. Seas calm, winds light 5 knots. Visibility 10 miles plus. Light keeper did not meet the boat, took Callahan and McSweeney with me. Went to light and keepers house to check on safety.
Met at the door by the keeper’s dog. She seemed healthy and happy to see us. Looked around the house, the light tower, found nobody. House looked in order, no signs of violence. Heard a strange sound, like the sound of a piano playing in the distance. Determine if a wind chime or something of that nature. Found a box full of books, some of them old, and at least one of them fairly new. The newest one appears to the journal of the lighthouse keeper, to be reviewed on board. Callahan and McSweeney searched the grounds, no sign of the keeper, will radio DeGrat about our findings. According to the tags, the dog’s name is Casey. She appears well fed and watered, and is very friendly. Seems to have adopted me, so we will keep her onboard pending further investigation of the keeper’s whereabouts. Contacted the Coast Guard prior to leaving. Hope they find the guy.
Entry closed.
-fin-