Student's Short Story

Ninth grader I.B. wrote the following short story in response to the above picture-prompt, previously posted here, where several bloggers graciously offered their own interpretations in the Comments Section. I.B embedded in his story several beautiful photographs of a lighthouse, but I didn't include them here:

The Rhode Island Lighthouse

The sun’s ambient rays poured over the land as it rose. The warm beams gave light and comfort to almost all over whom they fell. But someone did not feel comforted that day – and for good reason. His face was wrinkled in frustration and sorrow. This was the face of Will Allen. His young face held none of its normal cheeriness, for he had received a terrible message.

Will was standing in front of the soon-to-be gone historic lighthouse of Rhode Island. Soon-to-be-gone, because the structure was to be torn down. It was a sad affair because the lighthouse had been standing since 1944. It had blared many a warning for boats coming ashore. Its light had shown the way for fifty years. And now, it would stand no later than a day.

Will had pleaded with the town council of Newport. He had reasoned with them that the lighthouse could be kept on as a historical showpiece. But the council had fired back that a mini-store would generate more revenue for Newport. “And, besides,” they said, “think of all the chips and sodas you can buy.”

But snacks were the least Will could think of when confronted with all his best memories associated with the lighthouse. Will thought, If the council won’t listen to me, maybe the people will. So he went around door to door asking if someone would please sign his petition and join his protest. He even persuaded his two friends, Bill Turner and Edgar Thatch, to come. Eventually he got enough people to sign, and he on the day after getting all the required signatures, announced that he and his group of preservationists would arrive at the lighthouse and keep the tractors from demolishing their “good ol’ lighthouse."

On the day of the protest, Will lay in bed and felt nervous. Would his plans work? Would the tower be saved? Well, he thought, if not, we’ll always have our memories.

Will began to reminisce. He remembered everything that had happened to him at the lighthouse. He remembered that time he had saved a boat from near destruction. when he had shone the bright light out and blared a horn so loudly it could have been heard a mile away if not for the ferocious storm. And the time he had had so much fun repainting it when it needed a fresh coat. Will sighed, and thought, there were good times and bad times. But they were all good memories.

He got out of his bed, and showered and dressed. When he looked out of his window to the clock tower, his pulse skipped a beat. The current time was 8:03 a.m. But the bulldozers had been scheduled to come at 7:00 a.m.! He quickly put on his shoes and dashed as fast as he could toward the lighthouse, or, as he soon found out, where the lighthouse had stood.

When Will reached the site, his dismay became fixed. Where the majestic lighthouse had stood, there was only empty air. He was too late! Too late for what? he thought. After all, a petition could not guarantee the safety of a historical monument. He rubbed his face angrily, though the tears would not leave.

“There goes a member of my family,” he muttered. He had loved the lighthouse, and now it was gone for good. He took one more look at the empty area. And from his eye a single tear fell onto the ground before him. Then he turned away and strode home, filled with sorrow. “Goodbye, old friend!” he called over his shoulder.

Six months later, Will still had not forgotten the lighthouse’s destruction. Just as the pain started to recede, he received a letter from the Newport Council, telling him to come to the old lighthouse site. Probably to show me their new mini-mart, he thought to himself exasperatedly.

Will strapped on his boots and headed over, thinking to himself, I wonder if they’re going to try to persuade me to buy something? When he arrived, once again he stopped dead in his tracks. Where there had been emptiness stood another lighthouse. Tears welled up in his eyes again, flowing down his face, though these were tears of joy.

Will espied something on the new lighthouse’s wall, and went over to see what it was. It was a note, which read, “Will, we saw how sad you were when we had decided to get rid of the previous lighthouse. We had a talk amongst ourselves and decided to build another lighthouse in place of the old one. We know this one will bring you as many memories as the last. Sincerely, The Newport Council.”

Memories! Will thought joyfully.
--Submitted by I.B.