**Title: "The Keeper's Secret"**
The lighthouse was Isla’s sanctuary, perched on a desolate cliff where the sea howled and the wind screamed. She’d been its keeper for three years, relishing the isolation and the steady, mechanical rhythm of her duties. It was a quiet life, predictable—until Emery arrived.
Emery’s car had broken down on the winding coastal road, and with night falling fast, she stumbled upon the lighthouse. Isla wasn’t expecting visitors, but she couldn’t turn her away. Emery was grateful, charming even, as she sipped the tea Isla offered, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity.
The storm outside intensified, but something about Emery’s presence unsettled Isla. She seemed too interested in the lighthouse—asking about its history, its structure, its lonely reputation. When Emery mentioned rumors of disappearances near the cliffs, Isla’s smile faltered.
“They’re just stories,” Isla said, her voice tight.
But Emery wasn’t convinced. Later that night, Isla caught her snooping around the tower’s base. “I got lost,” Emery explained, her smile too wide. Isla didn’t believe her.
By the next morning, Emery was gone. Her belongings remained in the guest room, but there was no sign of her—not on the road, not on the cliffs, and not in the sea below. Isla reported the disappearance, but the search yielded nothing.
As the days passed, strange things began happening. Footsteps echoed in the lighthouse when Isla was alone. Doors slammed in the middle of the night. The beacon’s light flickered, though it had never failed before.
One evening, while inspecting the base of the tower, Isla found a rusted trapdoor she’d never noticed. It creaked open to reveal a narrow, spiraling staircase leading into the earth. Heart pounding, Isla descended. The air grew colder, the walls damp and slick.
At the bottom, she found a cavern filled with old tools, decaying rope, and... bones. Human bones. Among them was Emery’s scarf, still damp from the storm.
Before Isla could turn to flee, she heard a whisper behind her: “You shouldn’t have let me in.”
She spun around, but the cavern was empty. Yet the whispering grew louder, joined by the faint, accusing voices of many. The lighthouse’s beam cut through the dark above, but it offered no comfort.
The last thing Isla saw before the light went out completely was Emery’s shadow stepping toward her, her eyes glinting like the sea before a storm.
