CANDLE IN THE SNOW by     Dean FH Macy © 1993 Overhead the moonlight pulsed. Swiftly moving cloud groups obscured the moon and just as quickly, passed inland allowing light to momentarily bathe the deserted beach; then dark again. In the pulsing light the spray glittered like tiny diamonds as powerful waves struck the ragged coast and shot several feet into the frigid air. Though the spray a lighthouse beacon afar off seemed to flash in rhythm with the pulsing moonlight. The wind moaned and shrieked as it raced around pilings under the ice-coated pier, occasionally breaking off long icicles and hurling them into the churning water. A figure emerged from beneath the pier where he had secured the tiny rowboat that brought him ashore. He appeared unbothered by the raging fury of the elements around him. His bulky frame was covered by a faded slicker under which was an old Navy peacoat. A woolen cap, pulled down to the tops of his eyes, covered his head. Scarf ends, blown by the wind, struck out like pennants from his neck. Reaching with rubber-gloved hands he pulled out a huge, dark green sack from beneath the pier, tossed it over his left shoulder and slowly walked across the beach to the sleeping village. The little fishing village looked deserted. Old buildings groaned and creaked in the wind. Except for the glow from the street lamp at the bottom of the hill, it was dark. No other light could be seen. The man stopped a moment beneath the street lamp, looked up the hill, and then turned toward the lighthouse beacon. Nodding his head, he began walking up the left side of the street. A faded green, wooden structure loomed over him as he started climbing the weather-worn steps of the first building. Stopping at the top step he scanned the windows for light. There was none. He opened the front door, bracing it against the wind; then pulled it closed, disappearing into the building. Some time passed before he emerged again. Down the creaking stairs he went, up the hill to the next building where he repeated his odd performance. Three more buildings found him at the top of the hill. Facing the sea he looked to his right toward a tiny fishing fleet; then left to where a white, snowy path wound through the trees out of sight. No buildings there. He glanced at the green sack, so much lighter now, bouncing behind him in the gusting wind. He tightened his scarf around his neck and started down the other side of the hill. Only three buildings on this side; then he was finished. Once again he stood beneath the lamp at the bottom of the hill. He rolled the empty sack into a small cylinder and stuffed it into an outside pocket. With one last glance at the dark buildings, he pushed against the wind to the pier, untied the tiny boat, and pulling on pilings, he maneuvered the rowboat back into the open sea. With the wind at his back he slowly rowed toward the lighthouse. His even strokes were powerful and he was soon able to tie the little rowboat to the stony pier. Slinging the oars over his shoulder, he climbed the rocky incline to the arched, wooden door. After fastening his oars to the lintels he went in. Moments later, slicker, peacoat, scarf and cap hung on pegs by the door, he moved into the cheery kitchen. The warmth of the crackling fire felt good and he warmed his hands by it; then sat down to rest. His wife looked at him. Her eyes twinkled as she said, "How did it go?" Her husband nodded his reply, then whispered, "Merry Christmas, old woman!" Her eyes glistened as she replied, "And Merry Christmas to you, old man!" ~

This story is based upon a tale handed down by the old folks in Jonesport, Maine. I wrote it due to a challenge made to me to write a short mystery with all the suspense and drama found in a much larger story, but to keep it to about 600 words. Although the story printed above is copyrighted, you, the reader, are prohibited from copying and/or publishing it as is, in part, or in electronic form without the written permission of the author. To obtain permission to use the story in whole or in part, please contact me and list your intended use and where I can reach you by phone.

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