Max and I watched the door as the storm grew stronger. Each flash of lightning seemed to follow the other within seconds. I would be blinded by the bright electricity. When my eyes were able to see again in the dark, the door swung open. Rain flooded the hardwood floor. Another flash of lightning blinded me for a second time. When my eyes recovered I saw two worn old rubber boots standing in the doorway.

It was old keeper Johnson. I was so excited! Max seemed interested but if I wasn't around he would have been out of there. Max wasn't with us the night we were rescued. Actually, Max believes that people shouldn't go chasing down whales while they are trying to Migrate. I told him all about the rescue, the lighthouse and old keeper Johnson. I could see in his face he wasn't prepared for this.

Old Keeper Johnson sloshed into the room, the only thing that was wet on him was his boots. He was dry. The room immediately felt warm but there was no fire in the fireplace. The sweater he was wearing showed no sign of aging or the dust.

I was so busy watching him that I missed the five people who had followed him in. Max tapped me on the shoulder.

"You told me who he is but who are the rest of them?" Max sounded as if he was either going to cry or be very sick.

"Are you all right?" My voice became faint when I looked around and saw these people in my home. "Oh my."

Old Keeper Johnson had them in some kind of a trance. These people looked right through us. Max passed his hand in front of a woman who looked as if she was eating for the first time but there was nothing there. I understood now what happened that one night more clearly. There was no feast, he made us believe there was. He gave us what we needed in our minds to survive the night into the next day. I tried to explain this all to Max, who was still freaked out about the whole thing.

I went to old Keeper Johnson, "What do I do with them in the morning?"

I knew better to ask him. He didn't answer me the last time either.

There was a young English man sitting with the old man. He, too, tried to talk with him. Carrying on a conversation with himself, as I did a couple months earlier.

"He's not going to answer you. I know. He wouldn't answer me either," I said to the English man. It went on deaf ear, as did my conversation to old Keeper Johnson.

I watched the English man all night trying to reason, debate and chitchat with old Keeper Johnson. Finally, because of sheer exhaustion from his endeavors, the English man passed out.

Max had passed out hours before that. I looked outside. The storm had subsided and my light from my lighthouse was out. I was left in the dark with so many questions and no one to answer them. I turned around to go sit with old Keeper Johnson, but he was gone.

This story appeared in the June 1996 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.

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