Some say, to those who dare to listen, that the three lighthouse keepers had been lured to the cliff’s edge that dreadful night. Drawn to their inescapable fate by a strange glow beneath the sea.

Others swear it was unnatural voices, shrill against the howling wind, that beckoned them to that perilous precipice in a hurry. Whatever the reason, it was surely a foul place to be, cloaked in the damp darkness and lashed by rain, all alone on the island and with a terrible storm oncoming. The gloomy image of flickering lanterns – held high in a hopeless attempt to ward off an impending cataclysm – is enough to make one shudder.

The men’s hearts must have beat as loud as the crash of the tumultuous sea below. Then, it is said, from the tempestuous depths a giant wave rose. The billow of water towered above the beleaguered keepers, overshadowing the defiant lighthouse behind those wretched figures. A monstrous, pale horse charging forward with malevolent intent, drowning out the muttered prayers. It was as if the entire ocean had risen up with all its might. A furious, foaming colossus, sent to defeat those senders of light when all should be naturally dark. To challenge those who dared confront the primal power of a time-worn sea.

The keepers, sensing the worst, clung to each other before the final crescendo claimed their souls, tearing the men mercilessly from their precarious stance into a swirling abyss. The wave receded, having extinguished the beam of the lighthouse, leaving behind a scattered landscape devoid of human life.

The empty cliff fell deathly silent. Then, from a window of the still trembling lighthouse, a caged canary sang a mournful tune. But being the sole witness, who could tell the real truth about the keepers’ mysterious disappearance?