The storm swelled like a living thing. Clouds turned black, swallowing the last rays of sunlight.
Mark and Fredrick sprinted through the rain, hearts racing, soaked to the bone, towards the
crumbling silhouette of the lighthouse perched on the cliff. Waves roared like angry beasts
below, crashing violently against the rocks.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Fredrick asked, glancing back at the darkening sky.

Mark shrugged, his mind already racing ahead. “We don’t have a choice. Better than being out
here.”

The door creaked open, revealing a damp, musty interior. The air inside was thick and stale,
carrying a hint of salt and decay. They stepped inside, drenched and trembling. The old wooden
floor groaned under their weight. Dust motes danced in the dim light filtering through cracked
windows.

“Whoa,” Mark whispered, his voice echoing in the silence. “This place is creepy.”

Fredrick shivered, rubbing his arms. “Let’s just wait out the storm.”

They moved deeper into the lighthouse, the walls lined with peeling paint and faded photographs
of the sea. Each step felt like a violation of the space, as if the ghosts of the past were watching,
waiting.

“Look at that,” Mark said, pointing to a narrow staircase spiraling upward. “I bet the view is
amazing from the top.”

“Let’s not,” Fredrick replied, unease creeping into his voice. “What if it’s not safe?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Mark insisted, his adventurous spirit rising. “Just a quick look.”

Fredrick hesitated, glancing nervously at the staircase. The walls seemed to close in around
them, shadows deepening. “Fine, but let’s be quick.”

As they climbed, the air grew colder. The wind howled through the cracks, a mournful sound that
chilled them to the bone. With each step, Fredrick felt a tightening in his chest, an instinctive
dread.

When they finally reached the top, the lantern room was a ghostly sight. Glass panels were
shattered, and the once-bright beacon lay dormant, covered in dust. Mark stepped forward,
peering into the darkness beyond.

“This is—”

A whisper interrupted him, soft yet insistent. “Turn it on… please…”

Fredrick froze, his heart pounding. “Did you hear that?”

Mark nodded, entranced. “It’s just the wind.”

But the voice grew clearer, laced with desperation. “Help me. Turn on the light.”

The room felt alive, pulsing with a malevolence that made Fredrick’s skin crawl. “We should go
back,” he urged, stepping back.

Mark, however, was already moving toward the lantern. “It’ll be epic. Just think about it!”

“Mark, wait!” Fredrick called, panic rising.

But Mark was already reaching for the switch. The moment he touched it, the temperature
plummeted. The shadows twisted and swirled, as if they were alive. The ghost of an old man
materialized before them, eyes hollow and mouth twisted in a mournful smile.

“Turn it on,” he repeated, voice echoing like a distant thunderclap. “You must turn it on.”

Fredrick screamed, gripping Mark’s arm. “Get away from it!”

Mark’s fingers hesitated. The lighthouse trembled, a deep rumble shaking the very foundations.

The ghost’s face twisted in anger. “You must help me! Turn on the light!”

In that instant, fear gripped Mark. He pulled his hand back, but it was too late. The old man
lunged forward, icy fingers wrapping around Mark’s throat.

“Help me!” the ghost howled, a cacophony of despair. Mark gasped, struggling against the grip,
but the old man’s strength was overwhelming.

“No! Mark!” Fredrick shouted, desperate.

Mark’s eyes bulged, terror etched across his face as he fought for breath. The room spun,
shadows closing in.

With a final, desperate push, Fredrick lunged forward, shoving the lantern switch down.

Light burst into the room, blinding and bright. The ghost screamed, an ear-piercing wail that
echoed through the lighthouse.

In an instant, the light pulsated, glowing fiercely before flickering out. Mark’s body crumpled to
the floor, lifeless, the ghost dissipating into the air like smoke.

“Mark!” Fredrick screamed, falling to his knees.

The lighthouse trembled again, the walls shaking as if the very building mourned. Fredrick
stumbled back, heart racing. The door suddenly swung open with a force that sent him crashing
into the wall.

“Get out!” he yelled at himself, scrambling back down the stairs.

But as he reached the ground floor, he felt a cold grip wrap around his heart. The old man’s
laughter echoed, a chilling sound that filled the air. The light flickered back on, illuminating the
lighthouse one last time.

As Fredrick stumbled to the door, he glanced back. The ghost stood there, a twisted smile on its
face, beckoning him closer.

He reached the threshold just as the light cut out again. The last thing he felt was the icy grip of
death closing around him.