Most of The World
On
a green cold island in the north, there was a lighthouse surrounded on three
sides – sometimes even four – by savage waves. The resident (an old man) had
to take care in such conditions; even opening a high window would cause the
need for the collection of any item that had not earlier been nailed down.
Only when the weather was light could he
leave to go down to the village to collect supplies. On such a rare occasion as
this, his mood would be quite tiresome to those to which he was not well acquainted,
but never to his daughter: who had once lived with him, but now grown to be a
wonderful teacher. She was the one whom he would always visit first from his
short list of relations.
A very small school it was too, for it had to fit the village; cosy, yet, it was the only building that could be seen clearly from the lighthouse.
The children were enjoying the fine weather when the old man entered through the gates. He hurried: not much fancying the funny looks that he received – which he did every time for he was indeed an odd-looking man: his eyes a deathly pale blue and his skin the same, a cap was drawn down to his face and you would begin to wonder how he could see without tilting his head all the way up.
The children were enjoying the fine weather when the old man entered through the gates. He hurried: not much fancying the funny looks that he received – which he did every time for he was indeed an odd-looking man: his eyes a deathly pale blue and his skin the same, a cap was drawn down to his face and you would begin to wonder how he could see without tilting his head all the way up.
His annoyance was easily quenched by his
daughters approach she had seen him from a distance and was pacing almost as
fast as him. They hugged, and she informed him he was engaged. Taken back by
the statement he hastily questioned her – why had he not been told earlier?
Bringing him to ask the more obvious question – when did this happen? And yet still – who?