QUITE A SHOW


by Marcelo Medone

"The lighthouse went out," Matt told me, alarmed.

It was the first time it happened since World War II, when the Germans were bombing us and we had to turn off all the lights.

The huge lighthouse, erected on top of the rocky cliff, guarded the entrance to the English Channel with its imposing 150 feet high, sending its flashes of white light every 20 seconds.

But now it was dead and dark, in the moonless night of southern England.

"Maybe it was Crazy Kenneth," I said to Matt.

"He's been crazier than usual lately," he replied, "since his wife died."

"Crazy" Kenneth Cole was an old fisherman who lived in his shack near the lighthouse. With his little boat, he fished in the waters beyond the cliff. His wife had drowned less than a year ago and he had been left alone in life.

I looked towards the location of the lighthouse and guessed its silhouette in the starry night sky. It seemed to me that a particular star was shining with an unusual intensity, several times higher than normal.

"You see it?" I asked Matt, pointing to the bright star.

“There are only stars.”

"There is one that is brighter, blue."

Matt shrugged and started walking toward the truck.

“Where are you going?”

 "Let's visit our loony friend on the cliff.”

We drove twenty minutes up the steep road that led to the rocky promontory. The waves roared fiercely, crashing against the rocks down below, splashing a white foam that glowed in the dark.

When we got to the shack, there was no one. Matt pointed to the lighthouse.

"He's out there, in his pickup truck."

 We drove the remaining two hundred yards to the lighthouse. We got out of our vehicle and walked over to Crazy Kenneth's pickup. On the truck bed he had placed a leather armchair. Sitting on it, totally naked, was Crazy Kenneth Cole, observing the starry sky with binoculars. Fortunately, it wasn't cold that night. And the wind was hardly blowing.

He looked at us out of the corner of his eye, still holding his binoculars.

"Liam, Matt," he said. "The little brothers. Welcome to my private show. I had to turn off the lighthouse for a while to better enjoy the scenery."

Then I noticed that the access door to the lighthouse had been forced. I don't know how Cole had managed to turn off the automatic lighting system.

"We have a new star exploding in the night sky. A supernova."

Crazy Kenneth handed me his binoculars and I gazed at the glowing blue star in all its splendor. A few steps back, Matt doubled over with laughter.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"That we are here, at the ends of the earth, looking at the sky next to a turned off lighthouse and a naked old madman."

Then, I began to undress very slowly.

Crazy Kenneth was right: it was quite a show.

"The lighthouse went out," Matt told me, alarmed.

It was the first time it happened since World War II, when the Germans were bombing us and we had to turn off all the lights.

The huge lighthouse, erected on top of the rocky cliff, guarded the entrance to the English Channel with its imposing 150 feet high, sending its flashes of white light every 20 seconds.

But now it was dead and dark, in the moonless night of southern England.

"Maybe it was Crazy Kenneth," I said to Matt.

"He's been crazier than usual lately," he replied, "since his wife died."

"Crazy" Kenneth Cole was an old fisherman who lived in his shack near the lighthouse. With his little boat, he fished in the waters beyond the cliff. His wife had drowned less than a year ago and he had been left alone in life.

I looked towards the location of the lighthouse and guessed its silhouette in the starry night sky. It seemed to me that a particular star was shining with an unusual intensity, several times higher than normal.

"You see it?" I asked Matt, pointing to the bright star.

“There are only stars.”

"There is one that is brighter, blue."

Matt shrugged and started walking toward the truck.

“Where are you going?”

 "Let's visit our loony friend on the cliff.”

We drove twenty minutes up the steep road that led to the rocky promontory. The waves roared fiercely, crashing against the rocks down below, splashing a white foam that glowed in the dark.

When we got to the shack, there was no one. Matt pointed to the lighthouse.

"He's out there, in his pickup truck."

 We drove the remaining two hundred yards to the lighthouse. We got out of our vehicle and walked over to Crazy Kenneth's pickup. On the truck bed he had placed a leather armchair. Sitting on it, totally naked, was Crazy Kenneth Cole, observing the starry sky with binoculars. Fortunately, it wasn't cold that night. And the wind was hardly blowing.

He looked at us out of the corner of his eye, still holding his binoculars.

"Liam, Matt," he said. "The little brothers. Welcome to my private show. I had to turn off the lighthouse for a while to better enjoy the scenery."

Then I noticed that the access door to the lighthouse had been forced. I don't know how Cole had managed to turn off the automatic lighting system.

"We have a new star exploding in the night sky. A supernova."

Crazy Kenneth handed me his binoculars and I gazed at the glowing blue star in all its splendor. A few steps back, Matt doubled over with laughter.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"That we are here, at the ends of the earth, looking at the sky next to a turned off lighthouse and a naked old madman."

Then, I began to undress very slowly.

Crazy Kenneth was right: it was quite a show.

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Writers Bio

I am a writer from Buenos Aires, Argentina. My poetry and fiction has been published in more than 20 countries, mainly in Spanish but also in Portuguese and English.


Inspirational ImageGuiding Light by Colin  Pithersby Colin Pithers

Pieces Inspired by this Image

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by Luisa Reyes

'Guiding Lights'
by George Colkitto

'Mysterious Moon'
by Eva Marie Ann Cagley Eva Marie Cagley


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