This is a quick Friday Fictioneers submission. Thanks to Sandra Crook for the prompt.
I’d like to take this opportunity to plug my annualish festive ghost story, which I’ll put on this site next week.
After they decommissioned the lighthouse, Bob felt adrift. Adept as he’d become at saving mariners from the rocks, it had left him without any transferable skills. Lacking an income stream, he stayed at his sisters in Deptford and took to loitering under the streetlamp outside the General Lighthouse Authority, warning passers by that it was a treacherous place. The police said he was a nuisance and moved him on. He came back, and this time the magistrate sent him down for 6 months. Bob didn’t mind, of course; he was used to confined spaces and pleased he could still serve as a warning to others.