“Greta, where are we going?” called Reed. The tiny ash blond form before him halted. Greta looked at her lover, then glanced behind him, eyes narrowed. She could still see the glow of the flames that now enveloped her city.

“The lighthouse,” she replied.

“Where?”

She didn’t expect Reed to know. He wasn’t from around here, he didn’t know their stories. She continued to walk down the sloping trail.

“There’s a lighthouse five hundred yards down. We’ll be safe there.”

Silence.

“It’s haunted.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious. She saved me when I was little. I almost drowned.”

“You’re tired,” said Reed. “You need to-”

“She was waiting for her lover, a sailor. He never came back. The door locked from the outside. Now she sings up there. Soft like a siren, luring ships off their course.”

They came upon the lighthouse and Reed shivered. “Don’t talk like that, Greta.”

They went in, climbed up, and looked out. “See, no ghost,” said Reed smugly.

Click.

The door locked from the outside
Three ghosts in a lighthouse