The Legend of Harbour Light

I.
Beyond the fading, worn path
the dilapidated monument stands…
No keeper to attend the needs,
save little Marianna Travenard
peering from the lantern room
guiding errant ships safely to the shore.

Her father was a bonnie sea captain;
her mother passed when she was young.
She sailed the waves along his side,
until the day he left her at home.
Marianna was just fourteen when
daddy left her in the care of kin
upon the secluded lighthouse island.

In months of perpetual discontent
she sorrowfully awaited his return.

II.
Marianna found ease in the company
of other bored and lonesome teens.
They spent their days exploring;
seeking out new grand adventures.

The sleeping beacon was their destination
on that fateful, tragic afternoon.
They ventured forth to explore
the building and what laid around,
but not much of interest could be found.
Through the rotting, unhinged door,
up the rusting spiral stairs to a higher level
their curiosities were peeked.

In the middle of the wooden floor
an iron plate stared the explorers down.
The children rapped upon the metal
to listen for what might hide within.
Hearing no more than hollow echoes
it was confirmed to glimpse inside.
They opened the portal cautiously,
sliding the hefty lid out of the way,
but found naught but an empty cavern
black as the midnight sky…
a deeper hole carved inside.

Chalked up to one more disappointment,
the portal was then left alone
to seek more interesting things.

III.
The group meandered back outdoors
still searching for a new adventure,
As the afternoon sun sagged low in the sky
the teens decided to take their leave.
Recalling her favorite scarf was left inside
Marianna swiftly ran to retrieve it.

Her friends grew concerned as she failed to return
after several minutes of waiting.

With no response to the call of her name
the worried kids ran back to the light.
No trace was found, no sign she had entered.
The girl seemed to be nowhere around
as the frenetic friends searched the grounds.

IV.
Jeremy Tucker ascended the staircase,
puzzling where Marianna could be.
As his head topped floor level
be was greeted by a frightening sight.
A puddle of blood, slick on the floor,
but no sign of the girl around.

His eyes scanned a line of scarlet drops
trailing away from the glistening pool.
He followed the dots to where they ended
at the edge of the iron door.
Now sealed tight as if no one had been there,
the door kept its secrets concealed.
No amount of prying could pull the lid ajar
as anxieties escalated.

The kids frantically scrambled to
find Marianna as adults were summoned.

V.
Through endless searches of the
building and grounds for countless days
the missing girl was never found.
Not a soul could yank the plate off the hole;
what was in there no one knows.

A darkened stain still marks the place
where her innocent blood was discovered.
To this day, some say she walks
the winding path behind the stoic tower.
An image of ethereal white wandering
To the pebbled shoreline she awaits
her sailing father’s return.