A lighthouse mystery.

Ross woke late and lay in bed staring at a narrow strip of daylight reflected on the ceiling. Something was wrong.

He listened intently, but heard only the creak of machinery from the watch-room, the crash of surf on rocks and the cry of seagulls – all familiar sounds. He inhaled deeply and smelt the faint odour of tar and whitewash that permeated the lighthouse. Then he realised what was wrong, by now he should be smelling bacon and coffee as old Ewan prepared their breakfast.

He swung his legs out of bed, dressed quickly and hurried down the steep, curving staircase. As he went he checked the other bedrooms, yet found no sign of either Angus or Ewan. He reached the ground floor; a large circular space which served as kitchen, living room and dining room. There was nobody there, breakfast had not been started and the lighthouse door was wide open.

Ross looked out of the door and across the small, boulder-strewn plateau that formed the top of Kraken Rock, it was deserted. He hurried to the rocky steps that led down to the base of the cliff – there was nobody there and the jetty too was deserted. What had happened to his companions? Ross’ heart was hammering with fear. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. They are playing a joke; they must be hiding somewhere - but where?

A cold sea mist rose over the cliffs and wreathed around the boulders; Ross shivered and hurried back to the lighthouse. Once inside he began a thorough search – the living areas and bedrooms, the watch room and even the lantern room where the huge kerosene-powered lantern burned in front of mirrored lenses. Soon it would be time to trim the wick, replenish the kerosene and wind the machinery that rotated the lenses, but, in the meantime, he must find his friends. He went out onto the narrow balcony that ran around the lantern room.

“Angus… Ewan,” he called, but the wind whipped his voice away and scattered it among the wheeling gulls. For the first time he noticed how agitated the gulls had become - they were circling low over the Rock and screaming their harsh alarm calls. A movement among the boulders caught his eye. Someone was standing there.

“Angus, is that you? Ewan.” But the figure did not answer – it just stood in silence with the mist curling around its body.

Gripping the rail to stop himself falling in his haste, Ross ran down the stairs, out of the door and across the plateau, stumbling on the coarse, tufted grass. As he neared the figure he slowed and stopped, it was neither Ewan nor Angus – it was a woman. She stood, swaying slightly, and glistening. The poor woman was soaked to the skin! Her black hair clung to her head and shoulders in a solid mass, whilst her sodden dress seemed to be one with her body. She must have been shipwrecked, but how did she get up the cliff? Surely he would have seen her if she had come up the steps from the jetty. She did not speak, but seemed to droop as if she would faint.

Ross was about to run and help her when one of the gulls; which had been screaming overhead, suddenly dived and slashed at the woman with its beak. The woman reared up –six – eight – ten feet tall. Ross stared at her in horror, then, with the swift reactions of youth, he turned and ran.

He raced across the plateau, hearing the rush of a heavy body and the thud of boulders being overturned behind him. He dashed in through the open door of the lighthouse and slammed it shut with a heavy thud that almost shook the solid wood from its hinges.

Something slammed into the door and Ross sank onto the living-room floor, feeling dizzy with shock. He heard a shuffling sound, as if something was creeping round the wall of the lighthouse. Then the woman looked in through the window.

Ross stared at her, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Her eyes looked back blankly, blindly, her pupils huge and round. Her mouth was a disc; any semblance to human features had just been a trick of colouring. Slowly the red slash of lips across the woman’s mouth faded, revealing the mouth for what it truly was – a sucker. The colouring around the eyes faded revealing more suckers, the nose – a sucker, the chin – a sucker. Beneath the fading black of the hair were rows of smaller suckers. Ross realised that he was looking at the tip of a giant tentacle.

Sick with disgust, he fled from the room and stumbled up the stairs. Up and up he went until he reached the lantern room. He went out onto the narrow balcony and looked down.

The tentacle rose from the water and stretched up the cliff to the base of the lighthouse and as Ross stared at the sea he saw two huge, unblinking eyes staring back at him. A cruel beak snapped open and shut, while around it the sea frothed as the arms of the hideous creature writhed. Ross knew that he was doomed; for once a kraken sees its prey it will never give up the hunt.

****

It was a week before the relief boat was due to arrive - a week in which Ross never left the safety of the lighthouse and single-handedly managed to keep alight the lantern.

 When the morning of his rescue dawned, Ross was exhausted and half mad with fear.
He hurried to the balcony to watch for the arrival of his saviours. A thick sea mist hid the boat from his sight, but when he heard the sound of a foghorn his heart was filled with hope.

As the sun rose, the mist started to lift. It should be no problem for the relief boat to tie up to the jetty, but what of the kraken? Would it turn its murderous intentions to the crew? Ross stayed in the lantern room, looking anxiously down at the steps which led up from the base of the cliff. At last he saw shapes climbing up through the mist – his rescuers were coming.

He shouted at them to beware and waved a red danger lamp to warn them that they might be attacked, but his voice was lost in the roar of the waves and the light barely penetrated the mist.

He hurried to warn them of the danger, but the knock on the door came when he was only halfway down the stairs. Strewth, they had been quick!

Determined not to leave them standing out there in the fog, Ross hurried down the last of the stairs and dashed across the living room. He flung open the door to greet his rescuers but the greeting froze on his lips, standing in front of him was the black-haired, dead-eyed woman. The stink of rotting seaweed overwhelmed him, he opened his mouth to scream but the woman swooped forwards and pressed her blood-red mouth against his lips in a cold, muscular, engulfing kiss that choked him into silence.

is mouth filled with slime, he wanted to retch at the taste of salt and noxious filth, but the tentacle was stifling him - he could not breath. Then he was moving, wrapped in her deadly embrace, bumping over the boulders before being plunged into the ice-cold sea. The last thing Ross experienced was agony, as the cruel beak of the kraken ripped into him.

When the relief party arrived they found the door open, the lighthouse deserted and the lantern still burning. No trace was ever found of the three lighthouse keepers - and so began the mystery of the Kraken Rock.