The moon steadily rose over the horizon, the clouds splitting like velvety curtains and allowing moonlight to peek through the gaps in between them. The ground below was silent, save for the chorus of crickets chirping in the distance, and the steady crashing tides of the ocean surrounding the island. A light flickered on in one sleeping home, the silhouette of the building standing out against the clear starry night sky. Someone was waking.

 

I woke to the sound of the insistent voice of my younger sister urging me to get up. “Go back to sleep, Sarah,” I complained, burrowing deeper into the warm blankets in my bed. “But there’s someone standing on the cliffs by the lighthouse, Henry,” she protested, holding her lantern in my face. I groaned, kicking off the blankets and facing Sarah with a scowl. “Didn’t Mom tell you not to wake me up unless it was an emergency?” I reminded her, folding my arms. “It is an emergency. You have to go outside and see who’s at the lighthouse. I just want to know who’s up there. Please?” she implored, clasping her hands in silent pleading. “Fine. But just one peek, and then I’m going back to sleep. Understand?” Sarah nodded, clutching her plush rabbit.

 

I put on my night robe, slipped on my house slippers, and tiptoed as quietly as I could to the front door, with my sister following. “We have to be quiet. Don’t make any sound, Sarah,” I warned her before slowly opening the door. I took a deep breath, lit my lantern, and led the way up to the lighthouse. When I reached the top of the hillside, I didn’t see anything at first. “Henry, look,” Sarah told me, pointing to the side of the lighthouse. I noticed her at last. Standing silently beside the lighthouse, was a pale-skinned woman with a white gown. At her side was a younger girl, dressed in the same garments as her partner. They did not say anything, made no movements, or looked at each other. They were held hand in hand in silent standing. I quickly put out the candle in my lantern. I motioned for Sarah to get down. She was about to say something but I put my hand over her mouth, shaking my head no. She looked past my face and went rigid. What? I mouthed. She said nothing but pointed over my shoulder, her eyes widened with terror. I suddenly realized what my sister meant. I slowly turned away from Sarah and looked up. The mysterious woman and little girl were no longer standing by the lighthouse, still clasped at the hands behind their backs. They were almost right on top of me, looking down at my paralyzed self, not saying a word. I tried to speak, but nothing came out of my dry mouth.

 

The little girl let go of the woman’s hand and crouched down in front of me, placing her hand on my forehead. I suddenly found myself rushed away from the island and in a dimly lit room with a few portraits dotting the walls here and there, though some were missing their canvases. Where am I? I thought to myself, still unable to move, let alone wiggle my fingers. I was only able to move my eyes, silently wondering where I could be standing. A slight tinkling sound came from my right, followed by a radiant sparkle of golden light emanating from behind me. I felt a delicate hand settle on my shoulder, warm and welcoming. A sweet, silky, smooth voice filled my thoughts, singing a song in a foreign language. After what felt like more than a few hours, the singing stopped, and I opened my eyes. I slowly let out a deep breath, realizing that I had somehow held my breath for a long while.

 

I found myself able to move again, and I fell down on my knees, aching from rigid standing. The slender hand lifted from my shoulders, leaving a lingering sensation of fleeting peace and warmth. I shakily got up off the ground, regaining my balance. “Henry? Are you okay?” a small voice asked, in a concerned tone. I came back to my senses and noticed I was back at the hilltop. I felt my heart beating faster than usual, and I put my hand on my chest, taking deep breaths to steady myself. I remembered what I had come up to the hillside for. “What happened to you, Henry?” the concerned voice asked. I regained my awareness, turning in the direction of the concerned voice. It was Sarah. “Henry? Why did you go to sleep?” Sarah asked me, hugging her plush rabbit. “What do you mean?” I questioned, leaning down in front of her. “You went in a sort of trance, mumbling under your breath. And the lady was singing at the same time as your whispers. The song was pretty,” Sarah explained, humming the strange melody that I had heard in my trance. I suddenly grabbed Sarah by the shoulders and brought her face to mine. “Don’t,” I ordered, as Sarah began to cry. I got a hold of myself, realizing what I’d just done. I felt really awful for being mean to my sister like that, and I immediately let go of her shoulders, backing away from her. “What did I do? Why are you so mad at me, Henry?” she cried, sobbing into her stuffed animal. “I’m sorry I did that. Really, I am,” I apologized, approaching my crying younger sister. She continued to cry, pushing me away. “I’m really, really, really, sorry,” I whispered, wiping my sister’s tears with a handkerchief in my pocket. I hugged Sarah, trying to comfort her. This time she didn’t try to push me away, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, her body heaving with great hiccupping sobs. I patted her back, apologizing for being so mean to her. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you like that. Can you forgive me?” I asked her, lifting her head up. “Look at me. I sincerely mean it. I really am sorry for scaring you,” I told her, which cheered her up.

 

Sarah looked up at the night sky, which was starting to brighten up, as the moon dipped below the horizon. “We better get back home, Sarah. Mom and Dad will be up any second now,” I suggested to her, taking a last look back at the lighthouse. I grabbed Sarah’s hand and led her down the hillside and back to our home.

 

When we entered the house, we found our parents sitting at the dining table. “Where were you two?” our Mom asked, looking up when we took a seat. I didn’t know what to say. I looked at Sarah for help. She squeezed my hand tightly under the dining table, shaking her head no. I sighed. Looking back at my parents, I decided to tell them. “We were up at the lighthouse, enjoying the sunrise,” I explained, hoping they would believe me. They looked at each other, then back at me and Sarah. Mom smiled warmly. “As long as you keep your sister out of trouble and danger, you can go back up there anytime you want. Just don’t sneak out of the house early in the morning, okay, Henry?” she said, kissing each of us on the forehead. Sarah pulled her chair out from under the table, hugging her plush rabbit tightly. I went back to our shared bedroom, ready to have a private discussion with Sarah about what happened earlier. I checked to see if our parents were coming, then quietly shut the door. I turned back to look at Sarah, who was huddled up on her bed, not saying a word.

 

“Look, we need to talk about this,” I told her, pulling a chair up to Sarah’s bed. She turned away from me, determined to avoid talking about what had happened up at the lighthouse. I put my hand on her back, trying to get her to talk to me. In return, Sarah gave up her determined silence and looked at me. “I don’t want to talk about it, Henry,” she told me, pouting. “You can’t avoid it. We both saw it, and now we have to talk about it. That’s all there is to it,” I said, looking her in the eyes as I spoke. Her eyes shined, with fresh tears welling up in them. “I know it scared you. I was scared too. But the sooner we talk about it, the better you and I will feel,” I said to her, trying to comfort her into talking about what we’d experienced. She turned away from me again, staring at the bedroom window. I sighed, giving up. “If you won’t talk to me, then I’ll tell Mom and Dad what really happened up on the hill,” I said, opening the door to the bedroom. She refused to say anything, stubbornly avoiding any eye contact with me. “Fine,” I said, exiting the room. As soon as I began walking down the hallway, Sarah ran up in front of me, blocking my way. “Don’t. Don’t tell them. They won’t trust us ever again if you tell them. You’ll get us both in trouble,” she pleaded, not letting me continue down the hallway.