Being in the backwaters of my own mind, distance had no meaning, and Syren delivered me to the lighthouse almost immediately. We stopped in a clearing in front of the lighthouse, a single tower of stone with the light I had seen on the beach still pulsing at the top. Like the beach, there was no sound and no other movement.
I dismounted and slowly approached the door. Embedded on the door was an intricately decorated tile with a calligraphic symbol embossed in the middle. I fingered the symbol and studied it.
“Destiny.”
I jumped and spun around. Standing behind me was an old woman. She was red-cheeked and wrinkled, wearing a dress and apron that reminded me of traditional Russian peasant garb. She carried a bucket of water in each hand.
“It means ‘destiny’. Could you please open the door?”
Still staring at her, I pushed open the lighthouse door. The old woman set the pails of water on the ground and stepped through the open door.
“Could you please bring those dear?”
I picked up the pails and followed her in.
“Set them there. Could you throw some wood on the fire and get a kettle going for tea?”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” I said. “First, who are you?”
“The Keeper of the Lighthouse, of course. Fetch me my wrap please. It’s a might cold.”
“You’re the lighthouse keeper? Excuse me, but it doesn’t seem that you get many ships out here from what I can see. Not much action of any kind. So what’s the need for a lighthouse?”
“Oh, no, we don’t get any ships out here; you’re right about that. But I need to keep the light burning, nonetheless.”
“Why?”
“Oh, you know why, my dear.”
“No, I don’t. What’s so special about that light?”
“Please, don’t trifle with me. I know why you’re here. You’re here to steal the light.”
“What are you talking about? I just came out here to look around.”
“You can’t have the light! I’m the Keeper!”
“Fine, whatever.” I edged towards the door. Things were getting a little weird and I wanted to jump on Syren and go.
“No! You can’t leave. You’ll tell others about the light.” The old woman advanced towards me.
“No, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
“You lie!” Suddenly, the woman’s face contorted. Her chin began jutting outward until it had curled up over her mouth. Her nose began growing until it hooked down. Her face took on the appearance of a large-mandibled insect. Her eyes turned puss-yellow and her finger nails grew out until they curled under into claws.
I screamed and scrambled to open the door. Just as I slid out, I felt something grab the tail of my shirt. I yanked away and called out:
“Syren! Let’s get out of here!”
The horse bolted toward me and I swung up and into the saddle. “Go!” I commanded.
Syren took off down the beach. I craned my head around looking for our pursuer. I remember the tales told by the other travelers at the Inn. This must be the Baba Yaga and what she did to her victims was horrific beyond description.
Suddenly, a thought hit me so powerful that I reined Syren to a skidding stop.
“Syren! What’s wrong with all of this?”
Syren bellowed.
“Yeah, I thought so too.” I wheeled her about and we headed back to the lighthouse.
When we arrived, the hag was gone and the old woman, placid and calm, sat in front of the door peeling potatoes. I jumped off the horse before she had come to a complete stop.
“Hey! Listen to me, you old bat! This is MY unconscious; therefore, this is MY lighthouse, and if I wanted that light it would be mine too! Now, take a hike!”
The old woman dropped her knife and potato. She laughed so hard she had trouble staying on the stool.
“Of course, my dear, of course it’s your light!”
“What?”
“Yes, I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out.”
“Excuse me? Did I miss something?”
“Apparently, not until today. Yes, that is YOUR light. It is the light of your intuition. It’s been here in your unconscious all these years, pulsing, waiting for you to come claim it. Here.” She handed me a lit lantern.
“Well….. I’m confused…. Why all the theatrics?… Why didn’t you just say so?”
“If I had just offered it to you, you wouldn’t have wanted it. I had to make you work for it. I had to make you want it. With the light of your intuition in hand, this world in your mind will now come alive. Just wait and see.”
With that, the Baba Yaga started laughing again and then vanished.
Still holding the lantern, I climbed aboard Syren. “Let’s go home now.”
Syren whinnied. I looked into the sky just in time to see a purple pig with polka dots fly by.
Lori Gloyd © July 29, 2006
Claiming the light is the most powerful of actions Lori. Now you can move forward unfettered, throw the light into all those dark corners. And I love Lighthouses. Might have to do a light house series with the women who attend the Lemurian Light House.
So delightful,
no pun intended
Lori, this tale is so inspirational!
what a neat idea, seizing hold of the light from a lighthouse
I agree — this is great stuff.
It’s a hoot, I mean it, an adventure on a grand scale! All that’s missing is the butter popcorn and a box of malted milk balls!
Anita Marie
[...] When I finally reached the Old Abbey, once again I made myself at what I thought would be my home, but once again I eventually found myself breaking loose and ascending to yet another creative level. I rode the back of a Thunderbird to Duwamish Bay where I took a ferry ride to the Isle of the Ancestors and met the Matriarchs of my family. Later I took an exhiliarating night ride into my unconscious and challenged the Baba Yaga for possession of my imagination. I was victorious and brought my creativity into the full light of day. [...]