War with the Light

By Patti Jurinski

During the war, the lighthouse went dark. Fear of a German invasion outweighed the menacing bite of a jagged coastline. Oddly accustomed to a sweeping five-flash pattern, the thirty-two islanders met insomnia, their new neighbor. For weeks, babies cried, goats and cows went dry, chickens stopped laying. A new landscape emerged: shifty, disquieting and unfamiliar.

Four years later, the flash flooded the island, lighting up dark corners and hearts. It seduced residents into the long-avoided night like a siren’s call. Claps and hoots traveled in the crisp night air, replacing years of silence, as the island welcomed back a forgotten friend.