The Lighthouse Keeper's Logbook: The Deliverance Wars, #1

By B.M. Duffy

In 1873 Malcolm Elder resides in Wynesk Point Lighthouse, the only person for four-hundred miles in any direction. Comprehensive logbook entries begin to appear mysteriously which plunge him into a state of delusion and utter despair. Then an astonishing message arrives from the dark heavens that changes everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.M. Duffy
• Release date: Aug 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386366737

B.M. Duffy

B.M. Duffy has been writing short stories and poems since a young age. He enjoys reading stories of all genres and is a massive audiobook fan as well. He lives with his wife and two children… somewhere in the universe…

Book preview

PROLOGUE

12 September, 1873

Log: As I write this passage, grey tendrils of smoke fill the living space inside the lighthouse. They writhe in the air as if they are restricted while they search for an escape. They are trapped here, just like me. So I roll a little more smoke around in my mouth then let it drift up and out of my nostrils to join its fellow in his misery. In truth though, smoking seems to be the only thing that can calm my nerves now. The only thing that can take my mind off the things I’ve seen — but even then only a little. I remember sighing right before I stood and walked over to take the steps to the top of the lighthouse, and my hand trembled as I clutched my pipe close to my chest — as if it were able to protect me.

At the very top of the stairs is the lamp room. I hadn’t been anywhere near that room for weeks, not since I saw that horror out of the glass windows.

The lamp room was once my hideaway, my place to take comfort in the surrounding wilderness and the far-stretching ocean at the end of a long, hard day. I would sit up there for hours on end gazing out at the sea and letting the shine of the light take me to other places. I could relax. I could be calm. I longed for that calm once again and decided that sitting around was not going to fix anything. What a fool I was.

As I rounded closer to the top, my nerves almost got the better of me and I almost turned back. My trembling pipe hand was thrust out in front of me as a guide, or maybe just in case something jumped out in front of me, I can’t really say why.

Suddenly, a chilly gust of air blew up the spiral stairs from somewhere below and seeped up the legs of my trousers and shirt. I froze on the spot and didn’t move until the gust had subsided. Now all the hairs on my body stood prickled up and I tingled all over. I took a final moment to compose myself then saw to the last few flights up to the lamp room.

Straight away I noticed it was dark outside. Dark and foggy. I didn’t really have any notion of time then, but I found it fitting that it would be dark outside. The light flashed at five-second intervals and when it was lit, the entire surroundings were visible in all directions. The light shone with such intensity that it seemed as if the sun was lighting the way for the vessels of the sea.

But right now it was dark, in between flashes.

In less than five seconds it would light up once again.

Then to my horror, I felt a warm sensation run down the leg of my trousers as the seconds until the lamp lit up passed with agonizing, slow cruelty. Once again, I questioned my sanity and cursed my terrible misfortune. I realized that my bladder had let go as I stood there trembling while I stared dumbfounded out into the fog. I had no idea how many seconds exactly until the light would return. I would have no way of —

A click from somewhere above my head in the machine room sounded and the world outside was light again. The heavy fog still blocked any real view out to sea, but that was not the cause of my terror: I saw the same strange rippling that had petrified me earlier. It had not receded. I rubbed my eyes, but the vision would not clear.

It was then that I abandoned all hope of regaining my sanity and saw no other way out of this nightmare. I have remained calm enough to pen this confession of my terror, cowardice and shame. Heaven, have mercy on me.

Lighthouse Keeper Ainsley Robell – ID - 171015

The lighthouse keeper’s hands still trembled as he slid open the window to the lamp room. He tried to ignore the rippling features of the forest and the sea as the lighthouse lamp revealed them to him once again.

He fell in darkness for three whole seconds and as the life drained out of him, the lamp from the lighthouse lit up once more. The entire coast lit up, as the lighthouse keeper’s world turned to black, as if in mockery of his demise.

ARRIVAL

Malcolm Elder made his way up the narrow pathway toward the lighthouse. Lush green grass lined the path on both sides and it swayed in the wind that rolled over the top of the cliff. As he walked, he heard the soft crunch of his boots on the loose pebbles. The only other sound was a faint crash of waves as they pounded upon the rocks below.

There it is, he thought. My new home. Most lighthouse keepers took on terms of a month at a time, but Malcolm Elder was different. Instead of the usual one month on, one month off, he took an indefinite role as the keeper on Wynesk Point Lighthouse. The sun was low in the sky and a long dark shadow was leaning out above the path. The air became cooler as Malcolm closed in on the lighthouse and walked into the shadow.

Two hundred feet of bricks and cut stone stood tall and strong before him. The setting sun shone through the lighthouse windows and the lens of the beacon atop it. The light refracted through the lens, creating a reminiscent image of judgmental demonic eyes, complete with orange hue. He noticed the lack of outbuildings then. There was no outdoor tool shed, nor separate quarters for the keeper. Only a single building jutting out of an otherwise tranquil and untouched landscape.

Nowhere else to go, he thought. Then he took a brass key from his coat pocket and opened the only door for four hundred miles in any direction.

Inside, he climbed up the first narrow staircase and