📖 Story
On a distant rocky headland overlooking the sea stands a tall white lighthouse. At its top is a glass room with a great lamp that turns all night, sending its beam over the waves to tell ships: Careful, there are rocks here, keep away. In a small house at the foot of the lighthouse lived Grandpa Mansour, who had been the lighthouse keeper for more than forty years. He had a white beard, a blue woolen hat and a heavy coat he wore in every season, because the sea wind does not know summer from winter.
In the spring holiday his grandson Ziad came to spend a whole week with him. Ziad was eight. He loved maps, compasses and stories about sailors, and he had long dreamed of climbing to the top of the lighthouse. On the first day Grandpa took him to the iron door at the bottom of the tower and said: Here the stairs begin, one hundred and twenty-seven steps, turning and turning like a snail shell. Can you count them with me?
Ziad climbed, counting out loud: One, two, three... His voice echoed off the stone walls as if someone else were counting with him. At step fifty he stopped to catch his breath and looked out of a small round window, and he saw the wide blue sea with white birds flying above it. At step one hundred and twenty-seven they reached the lamp room, and Ziad stood amazed before the huge glass lens that looked like a crystal beehive.
Grandpa explained how the lamp worked: This lens gathers a small light and turns it into a strong beam that can be seen from very far away. This little motor turns the lens, so the beam appears and disappears every ten seconds. Every lighthouse has its own rhythm, so sailors know which lighthouse they are seeing. Then he showed him a big old notebook in which he wrote every night the weather and the ships that had passed. He said: This is my job, Ziad: to keep the light shining no matter what happens.
The first days passed beautifully and calmly. Ziad helped his grandfather clean the glass of the lamp room, oil the motor and write in the notebook in his small handwriting. In the evenings Grandpa told him stories of old stormy nights and ships the light had saved. Ziad would ask: Grandpa, has the lighthouse ever gone out? Grandpa would laugh and say: Once or twice, but I was always ready. I have a spare lamp, and every problem has a solution.
On the fifth night everything changed. The sky turned black, heavy clouds covered the stars and the wind began to howl around the tower like a great wolf. The waves rose until they crashed against the rocks and threw white spray high into the air. Grandpa closed the windows, lit a flashlight and said to Ziad: This is a working night, champion. I will go up to make sure everything is fine. Before Grandpa reached the door, the lights in the house suddenly went out and everything was dark.
Grandpa and Ziad went out to the door and looked up at the top of the lighthouse, and they saw that the beam had stopped. Grandpa said anxiously: The power is out! We must start the generator and light the spare lamp quickly. At that moment Ziad saw a small yellow point of light at sea, bobbing among the waves. He shouted: Grandpa! There is a boat! Grandpa raised his binoculars and looked, then said: It is a small fishing boat, and it is heading toward the rocks of the headland. Without the light it will not know where it is!
Grandpa ran to the small generator room beside the house while Ziad held the flashlight and lit the way. Grandpa pulled the cord once, twice, three times, until the generator roared into life. Then he said: Power is back in the tower, but the lamp will not start by itself. I have to go up and switch it on by hand. Grandpa's knee had been hurting him for days, and he looked at the long staircase and sighed. Ziad said: I will climb with you, Grandpa. I will carry the flashlight and the toolbox.
The climb began. The wind rattled the little windows, the sound of the waves filled the tower and the stairs were dark except for Ziad's flashlight. Ziad climbed ahead of his grandfather, lighting the steps and counting out loud to encourage him: twenty, thirty, forty... Whenever Grandpa stopped to rest, Ziad said: We are halfway there, Grandpa, the boat is waiting for us. And Grandpa smiled despite his tiredness and said: You are my compass tonight, Ziad.
At step one hundred and twenty-seven they entered the lamp room. The glass shook in the wind and the sea below was as black as ink. Grandpa opened the spare lamp box and said: Ziad, shine the light here, on these wires. Ziad aimed the light with a steady hand, though his heart was beating fast. Grandpa fitted the lamp and tightened the screws, then said: Now you press this red button. Ziad looked at his grandfather, and Grandpa nodded encouragingly.
Ziad pressed the button. In a single moment the lamp blazed with a strong white light, the crystal lens turned and the beam shot out over the dark sea, then vanished, then returned ten seconds later, exactly as it should. Ziad ran to the glass and looked at the little boat. He saw it stop, then slowly turn, move away from the rocks and head toward the safe entrance of the harbor. Ziad shouted: It saw us! It saw the light! And Grandpa hugged him tightly.
Grandpa and Ziad stayed in the lamp room until the storm calmed near dawn. Grandpa wrote in the big notebook: Stormy night, power cut, spare lamp lit, fishing boat returned safely. Then he gave the pen to Ziad and said: Write your name here, for you were my partner tonight. Ziad wrote his name in handwriting that trembled with joy, and then he fell asleep on the wooden chair with his grandfather's coat over him.
In the morning someone knocked at the door of the house. It was a broad-shouldered man in a wet yellow coat, with his little son beside him. He said: I am Salem the fisherman. I was in the boat last night. I lost my way in the storm, and if the light had not come back at that moment, I would have hit the rocks. I came to thank you. And he offered them a basket full of fresh fish. Grandpa said: Do not thank me alone. Thank my grandson Ziad. He was the one who saw your boat, and he was the one who pressed the button.
The fisherman looked at Ziad and shook his hand the way men shake hands, and said: You are a hero, Ziad. Ziad blushed and said: I was not alone. My grandfather is the one who knows everything. Grandpa laughed and said: True heroism, Ziad, is knowing what to do when you are afraid, helping the person beside you and staying calm until the job is done.
When the holiday ended and Ziad went back to the city, he took a gift from his grandfather: an old brass compass and a copied page from the big notebook with his name on it. He hung it on the wall of his room, and whenever he looked at it he remembered the spiral stairs, the wind, the red button and the light turning over the sea. He told his mother: When I grow up, I want to be like my grandfather and light the way for those who have lost theirs.
In the spring holiday his grandson Ziad came to spend a whole week with him. Ziad was eight. He loved maps, compasses and stories about sailors, and he had long dreamed of climbing to the top of the lighthouse. On the first day Grandpa took him to the iron door at the bottom of the tower and said: Here the stairs begin, one hundred and twenty-seven steps, turning and turning like a snail shell. Can you count them with me?
Ziad climbed, counting out loud: One, two, three... His voice echoed off the stone walls as if someone else were counting with him. At step fifty he stopped to catch his breath and looked out of a small round window, and he saw the wide blue sea with white birds flying above it. At step one hundred and twenty-seven they reached the lamp room, and Ziad stood amazed before the huge glass lens that looked like a crystal beehive.
Grandpa explained how the lamp worked: This lens gathers a small light and turns it into a strong beam that can be seen from very far away. This little motor turns the lens, so the beam appears and disappears every ten seconds. Every lighthouse has its own rhythm, so sailors know which lighthouse they are seeing. Then he showed him a big old notebook in which he wrote every night the weather and the ships that had passed. He said: This is my job, Ziad: to keep the light shining no matter what happens.
The first days passed beautifully and calmly. Ziad helped his grandfather clean the glass of the lamp room, oil the motor and write in the notebook in his small handwriting. In the evenings Grandpa told him stories of old stormy nights and ships the light had saved. Ziad would ask: Grandpa, has the lighthouse ever gone out? Grandpa would laugh and say: Once or twice, but I was always ready. I have a spare lamp, and every problem has a solution.
On the fifth night everything changed. The sky turned black, heavy clouds covered the stars and the wind began to howl around the tower like a great wolf. The waves rose until they crashed against the rocks and threw white spray high into the air. Grandpa closed the windows, lit a flashlight and said to Ziad: This is a working night, champion. I will go up to make sure everything is fine. Before Grandpa reached the door, the lights in the house suddenly went out and everything was dark.
Grandpa and Ziad went out to the door and looked up at the top of the lighthouse, and they saw that the beam had stopped. Grandpa said anxiously: The power is out! We must start the generator and light the spare lamp quickly. At that moment Ziad saw a small yellow point of light at sea, bobbing among the waves. He shouted: Grandpa! There is a boat! Grandpa raised his binoculars and looked, then said: It is a small fishing boat, and it is heading toward the rocks of the headland. Without the light it will not know where it is!
Grandpa ran to the small generator room beside the house while Ziad held the flashlight and lit the way. Grandpa pulled the cord once, twice, three times, until the generator roared into life. Then he said: Power is back in the tower, but the lamp will not start by itself. I have to go up and switch it on by hand. Grandpa's knee had been hurting him for days, and he looked at the long staircase and sighed. Ziad said: I will climb with you, Grandpa. I will carry the flashlight and the toolbox.
The climb began. The wind rattled the little windows, the sound of the waves filled the tower and the stairs were dark except for Ziad's flashlight. Ziad climbed ahead of his grandfather, lighting the steps and counting out loud to encourage him: twenty, thirty, forty... Whenever Grandpa stopped to rest, Ziad said: We are halfway there, Grandpa, the boat is waiting for us. And Grandpa smiled despite his tiredness and said: You are my compass tonight, Ziad.
At step one hundred and twenty-seven they entered the lamp room. The glass shook in the wind and the sea below was as black as ink. Grandpa opened the spare lamp box and said: Ziad, shine the light here, on these wires. Ziad aimed the light with a steady hand, though his heart was beating fast. Grandpa fitted the lamp and tightened the screws, then said: Now you press this red button. Ziad looked at his grandfather, and Grandpa nodded encouragingly.
Ziad pressed the button. In a single moment the lamp blazed with a strong white light, the crystal lens turned and the beam shot out over the dark sea, then vanished, then returned ten seconds later, exactly as it should. Ziad ran to the glass and looked at the little boat. He saw it stop, then slowly turn, move away from the rocks and head toward the safe entrance of the harbor. Ziad shouted: It saw us! It saw the light! And Grandpa hugged him tightly.
Grandpa and Ziad stayed in the lamp room until the storm calmed near dawn. Grandpa wrote in the big notebook: Stormy night, power cut, spare lamp lit, fishing boat returned safely. Then he gave the pen to Ziad and said: Write your name here, for you were my partner tonight. Ziad wrote his name in handwriting that trembled with joy, and then he fell asleep on the wooden chair with his grandfather's coat over him.
In the morning someone knocked at the door of the house. It was a broad-shouldered man in a wet yellow coat, with his little son beside him. He said: I am Salem the fisherman. I was in the boat last night. I lost my way in the storm, and if the light had not come back at that moment, I would have hit the rocks. I came to thank you. And he offered them a basket full of fresh fish. Grandpa said: Do not thank me alone. Thank my grandson Ziad. He was the one who saw your boat, and he was the one who pressed the button.
The fisherman looked at Ziad and shook his hand the way men shake hands, and said: You are a hero, Ziad. Ziad blushed and said: I was not alone. My grandfather is the one who knows everything. Grandpa laughed and said: True heroism, Ziad, is knowing what to do when you are afraid, helping the person beside you and staying calm until the job is done.
When the holiday ended and Ziad went back to the city, he took a gift from his grandfather: an old brass compass and a copied page from the big notebook with his name on it. He hung it on the wall of his room, and whenever he looked at it he remembered the spiral stairs, the wind, the red button and the light turning over the sea. He told his mother: When I grow up, I want to be like my grandfather and light the way for those who have lost theirs.
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