Chameleon Magazine

On a coast where fog swallowed ships whole, a lonely keeper tended a cliffside tower. His lamps were so bright they seemed unnatural, but sailors still perished, unable to see through the storms.

One night, exhausted, the keeper climbed the tower and whispered into the night, “If there is any kindness above, let it shine.”

As if in answer, the clouds tore open and the stars revealed themselves. Their light joined the lamps, piercing the fog in patterns no man-made flame could mimic. The ships found their way, guided by the heavens as much as by glass and oil.

From that night on, the villagers called him not just a keeper of lamps but a keeper of lights.

“The truest lamps are not lit by men, but by heavens leaning low to guide us.”