The Light-House Keeper

The squelching sound of wet galoshes filled the night air. Lewis Bardo had pulled on his boots and despite his father's stern warning to not leave the house, there he was, all four and a half feet of him, trudging up the hill toward a bright, full moon. He had packed a torch in one pocket. He knew he would need it later. His slipped his hand into the other pocket of his gortex jacket and found a half eaten packet of gum that he quickly calculated had been there since the winter before last. He untangled his fingers from the sticky lump and after pulling his hand from his pocket, he rubbed the gummy residue down the side of his jeans. 

He moved through the night, by the light of the moon. A small lonely figure who had one final thing left to do before sleep would come easily upon him. He dug his boots into the mushy grass slope of the hill, lifting himself higher and higher, eventually reaching the place he had set out to find. He stood on the hill top, a gusty breeze wrapping around him, dishevelling his rusty brown hair. He waited a moment, for another gust to belt its way up the face of the hill. He looked to the sky and there right in front of him, close enough that he felt he could reach out and touch it, the moon full and round, filled the enormous space before him. Its light was vibrant, spilling down onto the village where Lewis would finally sleep later on. 

Sleep - he thought. That was why he was here. As the gust died down, he heard the swish of a cord as it whipped and warbled its way through the sky. Lewis Bardo stretched his arms up to the sky and with the greatest precision, he snatched the dangling cord from the sky and hung on with all his might. He poised himself, reaching into his pocket to pull out the torch. Then he tugged down hard on the cord. The moon went out like a light. He clicked on his torch and quickly and quietly made his way down the hill, his village settled in darkness. Now, he could get some sleep.