The Light That Never Went Out

Ziad reached the glass room, panting. The wind was rattling the windows, and the rain was pouring down them as if the whole sea wanted to get in.

He didn't hesitate. He did everything exactly as he had done it hundreds of times before — back when he thought it was boring.

He opened the tank of the emergency lamp and found it full of oil, because he had filled it himself that morning. He struck a match to light the wick, his hands shaking. The first match went out, then the second. On the third, a small yellow flame flickered up, then grew bright and strong.

Then he set the lamp in its place behind the great lens.

And a miracle happened.

The hundreds of pieces of glass that Ziad had polished with his own hands, piece by piece, caught the light of that little flame, gathered it up and multiplied it — until a magnificent golden beam burst out of the lighthouse, cut through the rain and the darkness and stretched far out over the waves.