The End

(this is a writing prompt from my online group on the words: "the end"

Captain Silas as sailors called him, looked out the old lighthouse tower. He watched the swirling grey waters crash against the man-made structure which would one day topple, taking with it a legacy and a way of life.

The bright light that served to warn sea vessels of rocky cliffs and sandy shoals was finally at the end. The beacon of hope for countless sailors was replaced by the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration's nautical charts, lighted navigational aids, buoys, radar beacons, and Global Positioning Systems.

The captain felt obsolete as he walked down the spiraling staircase of the place he called home as his father did, and his father as well. As generations of keepers tended to the light, their lives intertwined with the lighthouse, now coming to the end. He remembered the dance of the light, the rhythm of the oil refills, and the vigilance needed to keep the flame alive.

When Silas reached the bottom of the tower, he felt the sea raging, as a powerful storm brewed inside him as well. Meeting him in the middle of the bay was a Marine Police boat coming to assist in his eviction of the place with no neighbors, no land, and no zip code. It was the place he called home for the past 30 years.

Looking at the sea splash and churn around him, he turned on a handheld beacon to direct the approaching modern vessel toward him even though it was not needed. He had no regrets. He lived a full life, a life with purpose. He welcomed the end, knowing that somewhere in the vast expanse of the sea, the light, his light would continue to shine.