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Grades level iconsGrade 10
Genre information iconNarrative
Resource type iconWriting

The Lighthouse Without a Shore

by Ava Diaz, Grade 10, Woodburn, OR
A guiding light for all those who wander...
About the Author

When she isn’t focusing on school, Ava loves to do art. She hopes her writing will find the lost souls of the world and guide them to safety, as her story does. She believes everyone deserves to have a safe space where they can be themselves.

The Lighthouse Without a Shore

The desert used to be an ocean. Everyone in the nearby town knew that, but didn’t talk about it much. There were no ships left, no waves, no seagulls—just sand stretching forever. But in the middle of it all, there was still a lighthouse. And inside that lighthouse lived Mara.

Every evening, when the sun drifted below the sand, she climbed the tall, winding stairs to light the lamp. The flame flickered, catching on dust instead of sea mist. The people in the town said she was strange for keeping it lit.

“Who are you guiding?” they’d laugh. “The fish?”

Mara didn’t answer. She just kept tending the light. She cleaned the glass, trimmed the wick, and polished the mirrors that no one ever saw anymore. It was quiet work. Sometimes she thought she could still hear waves out there, moving under the sand.

One night, a storm rolled across the desert—not of rain, but of wind and lost voices. Mara saw shadows in the distance, stumbling through the dunes. She kept the light burning steadily; the figures turned toward it. By morning, she found them collapsed near the lighthouse steps: travelers, covered in dust, eyes wide with relief.

They said they’d been lost for days, seeing nothing but sand and stars until they saw her light.

“We thought it was a dream . . .” one whispered.

Mara smiled softly. “It used to be a light for ships,” she said. “Now it’s for people.”

From then on, travelers came from all directions—drawn to that strange glow in the middle of nowhere. Some stayed to rest. Others left, but always told stories about the lighthouse that sat where no sea remained.

And still, every evening, Mara climbed the stairs and lit the lamp—because even when the world changes, some lights are meant to stay.

 

This piece was originally published in No Ordinary Dreamer by 826 National.

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