This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it is, its not what they would 
do. (not that you are likely to know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I 
don't like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at 
asstr? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on! Have fun! 
Let me know what you like! 
Oh, and I work hard on my writingso guess what? Its mine. That's right boys and 
girlsits copyrightedso if you want it? Just ask- we'll talk. 
 
Dryad  
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I love music, especially ballads.  I've been listening to this one pretty incessantly for the 
past few months, and have really wanted to write the story behind the song.  I tried to 
think the best way to do it; this may not be it, but you can be the judge of that.  The song 
is called "The Lighthouse's Tale" and it is by a bluegrass group called Nickel Creek (take 
your noses out of the air guysits excellent music.)  I have no permission, but hope if 
someone does come across this, they will take it as the tribute it is, rather than something 
underhanded.  The italics at the start of each part are the actual lyrics to the song. 
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The Lighthouse's Tale (MF, Rom, Tragedy) 
 
"I am a lighthouse 
Born by the weather and the waves 
And I keep my lamp lit  
To warn the sailors on their way. "
 
I cannot move. I cannot speak.  But this does not mean I do not feel.  

I sit on a small island off shore.  It is a very rocky coastline, one that is rough in 
good weather, downright treacherous in bad weather.  New England weather 
can shift quickly, hence my building.  I keep people safe.  I help boys come 
home to their mothers, young men to their sweethearts, men to their wives.

I remember my building.  I could feel the rough hands of the masons as they 
placed my stone.  It was done carefully, arranging each part of me just so as I 
grew. I could hear the men yell to each other, sing and joke.  It was a wonderful 
birth. 
 
The men lavished me with attention, placing the smooth stones, adding the 
wrought iron stairs, painting my outside a bright white, so that in good weather 
I'd shine.  Then, they brought my light.  Actually, my reflector, my lens and my 
lamp. They turned me on for the first time.  A silent hush fell over the men 
there.  I look out to the sea, and feel the waves crash around me. 

"I'll tell a story 
Paint you a picture from my past 
I was so happy 
But joy in this life seldom lasts."
 
The sunshine plays on the water, breaking up the light as it reflects up to me. In 
the summer, there are patches of sea grass the whisper in the wind. In the 
winter, the puffins kept me company, chirupping, and squawking, dancing 
about in the playground of the ever present snow. 

But the sounds of the ocean, ah, there was my constant comfort.  Like a wife, it 
would comfort me with its soft lapping, only turning shrewish on occasion, 
screaming and beating up a froth.  The next morning, it would be shining 
beautiful, as if making restitution for its fuss.

Those early times were pleasant. I felt the sea air, reveled in the power. I grew 
in awareness.  I had had a few keepers that usually kept to themselves.  They 
took care of me, took care of my light no matter the weather, but they were 
lonely, quiet men.

"I had a keeper 
He helped me warn the ships at sea 
We had grown closer 
Til his joy meant everything to me."
 
Then came Joseph.  No Joe for him.  He was soft spoken; in love with so many 
things.  We were alone much of the time, and he would speak to me. He would 
whistle, sing, talk to me as though I were his long-lost friend. He wanted me to 
be their own place, their haven away from the world.  He fussed over me, 
clearing and caulking my cracks, making me radiant. 

"We're going to make you shine again, aren't we? Sarah will love you.  You'll 
like her. She was born to the sea, just as you were."

He filled me with soft, precious things, chairs and pillows and a feather bed, 
making me beautiful on the inside as well.  He told me of his love, his Sarah, 
whom he was going to marry.  

"And he was to marry 
A girl who shown with beauty and light 
And they loved each other  
And with me watched the sun set into nights."

Sarah.  I remember the first time I saw her.  She stood on the prow of a wooden 
fishing ship leaving the bustling docks then traveled through the bay that lay 
behind me.  Sarah's long skirt floated out behind her, as did her shining, 
unbound hair.  I could feel the wind myself.  There was a brightness and pure 
joy to her smile.  The ship slowed as it dropped a dory.  A few of the seaman 
helped her down into it, where she rowed herself to us. 
 
She scrambled to shore, and rushed into Joe's arms.  I think if I had had arms, I 
would have wrapped them around them.  It was obvious how much they loved 
each other.  He led her up to me, and I felt her soft fingers caress my doorway.  
"Our home." Joseph whispered.  Sarah's fingers brushed over the tables, 
cushions, furnishings; my walls.  I was smooth, clean and bright.  She twirled 
towards him and smiled. "I love it," she said. "It's beautiful, Joseph."  

They sat and talked, ate and planned.  I watched them walk out along the now 
choppy shoreline, hand in hand. As dusk fell, he pulled her up to my balcony, 
carrying a blanket. He lit my lamp and curled up with her against my wall.  

Their warmth spread against my cool exterior, as they watched the sun set over 
the bay and how Aurora painted the sky in luscious, romantic colors and how it 
played over the sails of the ships returning for the night.  When the final ray of 
sun caught the tip of my light, the ship that dropped her off set anchor and 
awaited her dory. Sarah would snuggle into Joseph with a sigh, and he would 
lead her down to the shore, where she made her short row back to the ship.

This was their habit for the weekends; her father, who was a fisherman, would 
drop her in a dory to visit with Joseph, and pick her back up at the sun's last 
rays.  And every evening, before they left, they would watch the sunset on my 
balcony.

"She'd had to leave us 
My keeper he prayed for her safe return 
But when the night came 
The weather to a raging storm had turned."

One Saturday evening, the weather grew rough.  They watched from my 
balcony as the waves beat against the jagged rocks, the wind twisting Sarah's 
unbound hair and slapping it against my sides.  They watched as ships bounced 
on the choppy waves and as the sky turned grey and chill, Joseph turned on my 
light.  They saw her father's ship fight to get closer to the island, so the dory 
wouldn't get swamped.  Joe begged Sarah, "Wave your father off, I'll row you 
to shore myself in the morning." She kissed him softly. "I want my first night 
here to be our wedding night.  I can wait. It will be soon." 

He hugged her tightly, and then led her down the stairs.  I watched as he placed 
her in the dory, kissing her once more.  I wished for a voice then, to scream, to 
let them know this was no ordinary storm.  But I have no voice, and I watched 
in distress as her father's boat was getting pushed by the wind closer and closer 
to my shore.

"He watched her ship fight 
But in vain against the wild and terrible wind 
And me so helpless 
As dashed against the rocks she met her end."

Joseph stood on the shore, watching her dory pitch and swale in the rough 
water.  Sarah became drenched as the cold rain started to pour down, nearly 
flooding the small dory.  Joseph yelled into the wind, calling her back, but the 
wind tore his voice away.  

Her father's ship started to list, and its bow scraped the rocks on my shore.  He 
shifted his sails and managed to get back off, but further away from the 
struggling dory. The wind began to twist, and even my solid walls began to 
quake.  Sarah and the dory were flung about like a feather in the breeze. Her 
small boat, nearly submerged finally pulled along side her father's ship.  The 
ship moved to block the wind, so she might climb on board, the dory lost, when 
a particularly nasty gust pushed the boat sideways into my shore.  It listed 
under the weight of the wet sails. The port side- the side that Sarah had been 
climbing- smashed against the rocks.   Quickly, the ship sunk beneath the 
violent waves as it was torn apart and dragged out to sea. 

Joseph ran to the shore, screaming.The storm howled around him as he 
searched frantically along the shore. He sought all night as the storm raged.
then on the next day.

"my keeper found her 
washed up on the shore 
he kissed her cold face 
that they'd be together soon he swore. "

I saw her before he did, her pale, limp body, tossed up on the shore in the first 
light of dawn. Joseph was still circling the shore. It was a bright morning and 
the sun glistened in her golden hair. He came upon her and fell to his knees at 
her side.  He brushed the sand from her face.  I saw him whisper to her as he 
leaned over her slight body and kissed her cheek.

He stumbled away, then turned and walked toward me with grim determined 
steps, his face pale and his eyes red from crying and the wind.  He reached the 
shed and pulled out his shovel before returning to her side.

His tears consecrated the ground to his love as he dug her burial place in the 
sand. He lifted her gently, kissed her one last time before placing the sand on 
her final resting place. 

He left the shovel on top of her sandy grave and trudged back toward me.  He 
looked up at me, squinting in the now bright sun.  He slowly climbed the stairs 
to my tower.  He sat for a moment, in their usual sunset spot. I felt the wet 
warmth of his back.  

He stood then took a few steps forward and opened the safety grate to my 
railing.  I wish I could have closed it. I wish I could have stopped him. He 
pressed his body against my side one last time, his fingers gently touching my 
face, as if to say goodbye then he ran off the edge of the balcony to land on the 
rocks below.

"I saw him crying 
Watched as he buried her in the sand 
Then climbed my tower 
And off the edge of me he ran.
 
I am a lighthouse 
Born by the weather and the waves 
And though I am empty 
I still warn the sailors on their way."

I am alone now.  Some people even say I am haunted.  A new-fangled 
automated system replaced my oil lamps, so no one need stay with me 
anymore.  Majestic sailing ships don't pass by my shore much these days, just 
motor boats speeding past. 

I will not forget the happiness I saw, that I shared.  As long as I stand, their 
love will be remembered.

*thanks to Poison Ivan for the Edits! * 
Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002 http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad
