The Figure of Fair Isle
The lighthouse of Fair Isle was always quiet on a weekend, but never like this. Nineteen year old Seamus O’flynn was the sole lighthouse keeper on this Sunday night, Fair Isle Scotland, 1897. His usual partner, Brian Flannagan left the island earlier that day. Seamus was used to being alone, but still, on a dark and stormy night like this, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of fear in his stomach. From the lighthouse at Fair Isle, Seamus wasn’t within one hundred miles of a single person. Nevertheless, Seamus did his best to act as normal while fixing himself a meal of bread and potatoes. Eventually, the cold of the night began to reach Seamus. He headed for the shack a few hundred yards away to get more firewood to fuel the furnace. Seamus put on his jacket and headed out into the storm. When he reached the shed, Seamus grabbed his logs and headed back towards the safety of the lighthouse. While searching the island, Seamus saw his dying fire appeared to him as pure black smoke jetting from the chimney. Not wanting to seem paranoid, he shrugged off the odd scene and continued towards the lighthouse. Within two hundred yards of the building, Seamus noticed a small black figure that only came into view as the shine from the lighthouse illuminated his path. “Hello, sir! I wasn’t expecting anyone this time of night, would you like to come inside and warm up?”Yelled Seamus. The man didn’t move, although Seamus could tell the man was piercing through him with his sharp gaze. Before long, the man disappeared through Seamus’s line of sight as the beam of the lighthouse shifted away from Seamus’ view. After a few seconds, Seamus’ view returned along with the illumination from the lighthouse. “S— Sir?” Before Seamus could react, the man began to move. Slowly at first, he began to ascend, despite the man already appearing to be upright. As Seamus squinted to get a better look, he realized that the figure wasn’t a man at all, more like a distorted figure. The figure seemed huge, maybe ten feet even with arms and legs as tall as Seamus himself and a coloration as black as coal. Every time Seamus began to try to get a closer look at the figure, the light of the lighthouse rotated further, leaving him blind. And everytime the light returned, the figure came closer. Seamus soon began to feel pure terror. Before he knew it, the figure was within arms reach of Seamus. Seamus couldn’t move, frozen in fear. The figure put up his arm, making way for more jet black smoke that began to surround Seamus. As he stood there, the smoke began to enter into Seamus through his nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. The smoke slowly began choking Semaus, tightening its grip on the life of the young boy. Seamus managed to rip free of the smoke, and immediately tore off towards the docks to get off the island. Within thirty seconds, Seamus was at the docks, tearing ropes off of his rowboat in order to free his boat along with himself. Seamus jumped into the boat, before landing on a surprisingly soft surface. On further inspection, Seamus realized the lump was actually Brian, dead in the boat. Seamus could see the same black smoke oozing from Brian’s mouth, eyes, and nose, except in a pus like form. Seamus looked back just in time to see the creature extending his arm towards him, before blacking out from the fear… Seamus and Brian’s bodies were never recovered.