The Lighthouse Keeper’s Letter

On the rugged coast of New Jersey, where the Atlantic waves crash against ancient stones, stood a lonely lighthouse—Old Barrow Point. It hadn’t guided ships for decades, yet once a month, the mailbox outside the keeper’s cottage always held a letter. No name. No return address. Just one line on the envelope: For the Keeper.

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Miles, a young historian from Princeton, heard the tale while interviewing retirees along the coast. Intrigued by the mystery, he decided to spend a night near the lighthouse. On the 1st of October, he set up camp beside the cottage and waited.

As the moon climbed high and the tide whispered secrets, an elderly woman appeared, walking steadily despite a cane and the wind tugging at her coat. She reached the mailbox, slipped in a letter, and turned to leave.

Miles stepped out. “Ma’am? Can I ask—who are you writing to?”

She paused. Her eyes shimmered with the kind of sadness that only time teaches.

“To my husband,” she said softly. “He was the last keeper here. The sea took him 40 years ago this week. I promised I’d write every month, and he promised he'd find a way to read them.”

Miles was silent. The lighthouse behind them let out a soft creak, and for the first time in years, its light blinked once... then went dark again.