Elliot Hilden, managing editor

Staring out at the fog rolling over the waters in the dead of night, Luke almost appreciates the fact that he decided to abandon his life in favor of running this centuries-old lighthouse. He takes a deep breath, remembering the day that led him to this moment.

“Kiddo, you gotta start somewhere,” his father drones on, “This job could jumpstart your whole career!” 

Luke groans and wipes a hand over his face as he explains himself again, “The only career this would jumpstart is one of a deeply boring human. I have no interest in wasting my life away at a desk job that goes nowhere.” 

“Luke,” he sighs, “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you need a job by the end of the month. If you don’t, you’re taking this one. End of discussion.” 

Luke laughs, thinking that if his dad saw him now, he’d think he was crazy. Luke wishes he could say he’s not. After too many stressful weeks in five too many mind-numbing years, he snapped. It’s not HIS fault that this breakdown happened to coincide with him finding a job listing for lightkeeper. 

One day later, he’s getting trained in by an old man named Walter who smelled vaguely of fish and apple butter. One day later, he sees his first boat, a large, black ship with a mysterious aura that Luke would be getting used to over the next few weeks.  Every night, at exactly midnight, this boat — which he aptly nicknamed “Midnight” — floats in, drawing dangerously close to the rocks on the shore, before it passes without a trace, disappearing into the mist. 

Tonight begins no different, as Luke notices the ship on the horizon. He makes sure the light is on, watching as the boat comes in closer. What he doesn’t expect is that the boat won’t stop. It gets closer, and closer and closer, until it collides with the rocks. Luke is yelling, and sprinting down the spiral staircase before he can even think to do anything else. 

He scrambles outside, tripping over his own feet and running to help the people in the shipwreck that must be waiting for him. However, much to his surprise, the boat is fine. No collision, no shipwreck, just a large, black ship with a mysterious aura sitting docked against the rocks. Luke’s face twists in confusion as someone steps off the ship. 

The first thing Luke sees is the hair. A wavy, fluffy mess of pitch-black hair except for the silver money pieces that catch the moonlight in an almost inhuman way. Luke’s eyes begin to trail downward, noticing the shadowy eyes, sterling facial jewelry that matches his hair and the skull tattoo peeking out of his black dress shirt. Moving further down, his eyes catch the dark, tendril-like shapes creeping out of his sleeves and onto his hands, one of which is holding a pocket watch adorned with a skull much like the one on his neck. 

Luke tentatively steps forward, making eye contact with the stranger, “Hello?” He almost whispers, feeling trapped in the silence between them. 

The stranger seems annoyed at his mere existence, “Hello. Where’s Walter?” 

Luke raises an eyebrow, “Walter? He’s probably inside sleeping. Why?” 

He stares on as the figure sighs and looks to the ground, “I always knew this day would come, but I thought I could protect him.” 

“Protect him? From what?” Luke questions, before making the realization that he still doesn’t even know this person, “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Connor,” The stranger, Connor, replies, sticking a hand out, “Captain of the S.S. Moonlight. And you are?”

Luke shakes his hand, forcing himself to ignore the cold that seeps into his palm, “Luke, lightkeeper.” 

“You’re Walter’s replacement?” Connor looks toward the lighthouse, then at the small cabin nearby, “Guess he knew his time was short. We should head inside then and get him ready to go.” He begins the short walk to the cabin. 

Luke follows him promptly, “Go? Go where?” 

“The Afterlife, obviously. Did he not explain the job to you?” Based on the confused look on Luke’s face, Connor assumes not, “Figures the old lad would forget. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s not an ordinary lighthouse, Luke. Walter works, or rather, worked, for me. This lighthouse guides me from the world of the living to the Afterlife, so I can collect the souls of those who have died, and shepherd them to eternal slumber. Tonight, I got a feeling to visit, and after seeing you, I knew what it was.” 

The pair walks through the house, arriving at Walter’s bedroom door. There, lying still, was Walter, “Walter is dead.” Connor makes quick work of it, grabbing seemingly random objects from across the room. He swiftly collects the body, gently lowering it into a briefcase with little struggle. 

Luke stares at the act, mouth agape. He shudders as he looks up to Connor’s face, “Why didn’t I know any of this before taking the job?” 

Connor smiles, holding in a small laugh, “Something tells me livingfolk like you wouldn’t be so thrilled if a random man offered you the job of ‘Death’s helper.’”

It’s the first time Luke has seen Connor smile since their meeting, and he feels a small jump in his heart, but he tells himself it is the shock of what he is hearing, “So you’re Death?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but in simple terms, yes.” Connor places a hand on Walter and he disappears, as if he was never there at all. Luke watches in abject horror, which causes another smile to break out onto Connor’s face, “Looks like you and I will be getting to know each other soon.”