
You are the relief keeper at Tarn Skerry, alone for the first time. It is the third night of a storm the mainland swore would pass by now. At 2 a.m. the main lamp stutters and dies. The logbook of the keeper before you ends in the middle of a sentence. Every fork below is yours. Read the situation, choose, and live with what the sea does next.
Whatever you chose, the wind takes the south door off its hinges while your back is turned. Cold floods the stairwell. The spare oil for the lamp is down in the store, and the store is now open to the sea.
"Light is not the job. The job is to be the one who did not leave. The light is only how they know you stayed.
"from the keeper's log · final legible entry