I grew up in a small village pretty secluded from any other towns in the area, it only had a population of about 90 people, which even for an Icelandic village was very small. It only took me about 10 minutes to walk a circle around the town and there was not really any activity possible unless you had a rich imagination, which I did have, thankfully.
On the west side of the town there was a fairly big lake surrounded by a swamp; this area was closed off by a barbed wire fence. All the parents had told us kids that the fence was there due to a kid that had drowned there before our time, but we all knew it was just a story to keep us away from the swamp.
The East and North side led to the sea, with a beautiful beach covered in black sand. Me and the few friends I had used to spend most of the time there playing with rocks and sticks we found and creating a game out of it. Our parents did not really like us being there either as there was no way of anyone hearing or seeing us since the beach was down a steep hill covered in tall grass. But we never listened since it was the only place we had to have fun that wasn’t inside someone’s house.
On the South side was a large open field with nothing but grass and bushes that led to the roots of a bunch of mountains. Next to the field was a dirt road that ended a few kilometers by the sea at the edge of a small, old lighthouse.
I used to walk this road when I took my grandma’s dog for walks since it was the only place around I could let him run loose without risking him running into the ocean and getting wet, even though he liked getting himself as dirty as possible sometimes seemingly just to frustrate me.
When I was eight years old I lived with my mother on the east side in a rundown two story building with two apartments. On the bottom floor was our landlord, an old man living with his dog. I sometimes talked to him and spent time in his apartment to play with his dog. The man seemed to enjoy it as he was too old to play with him and felt sad about the fact. He used to tell me stories of the village from when he was younger which usually interested me a lot and sometimes I went there just to get cookies and milk and let him tell me stories. One time he even told me that he was one of the first people in Iceland to bring the internet to the country. I didn’t really know the significance of the internet at the time even though this was in 2006, living in an old village mostly filled with old people didn’t really give me access to the internet. The only computer I had access to was at my grandma’s house and it made this loud dial up tone when you wanted to use it. But I usually just used the computer to play Doom and Duke Nukem on a floppy disc.
My mom worked a lot in a slaughter house at the edge of town. It was, and still is today, the largest income for the town as it brings in foreigners to come work and people can rent out their rooms or houses for workers. My mother had worked there since I was born and I still somehow connect the slaughter house smell to safety and home.
Since mom worked a lot I spent most of my time at my grandma’s house to help her take care of the dog. I even had my own room there so I could sleep over when I wanted to.
I always took the dog down the dirt road twice a day, once in the morning and once after dinner. I walked all the way to the lighthouse and usually stopped there for some time to play with the dog and explore the area. No matter how often I came there I always liked exploring it and I always found new interesting things.
The lighthouse was not in use anymore so the doors to it were always locked even though anyone could break down the old rotten wooden door if they wanted to. You could even peek in there through cracks in the wood but it was usually just darkness and I could only see the outlines of some stairs leading up to the top.
I always wanted to go in and explore it but I didn’t want to risk getting caught and shamed for going in there since my grandma told me to never go in there no matter what, even if the door would be wide open.
One day I went to the old man’s apartment to play with his dog and I decided to ask him about the lighthouse since, at this point, it was probably the only thing he had never mentioned in his stories.
“Do you know what is inside the lighthouse?” I asked in a innocent, curious tone.
He looked at me for a good moment without saying anything and then laughed.
“I know very little about it” he said while he poured himself a coffee before he proceeded.
“It was built even before the town was, and got shut down before I was even a teenager” he paused to take a sip of his coffee and patted his dog’s head.
“Why did they shut it down?” I asked while staring at him excitedly.
“I’ve heard some silly ghost stories about it but my guess is that it was just old and there aren’t any ships sailing around here anymore so there’s no use for it, plus there’s another lighthouse by the mountain still in use” he answered.
Noticing I was obviously disappointed by the answer he laughed and leaned forward towards me and my eyes lit up again with attention.
“But one of the stories I’ve heard is that the old lighthouse keeper went insane there after isolating himself for months. His wife would say he would stay up there all day and night and never come home. She would bring him food and supplies regularly and beg him to come home again but he wouldn’t have it and stayed there at all times refusing to leave, even refusing to let her or any other keeper inside. He would always answer his wife with short and vague answers about needing to take care of the light so it wouldn’t get angry. It only wanted him to take care of it and he wasn’t allowed to let anyone else step a foot within the lighthouse walls. Shortly later he locked himself in there, never answering the door when his wife would bring supplies. She would leave them by the door but they would never be taken inside when she came by again. One day she went to bring him some food and attempted to knock on the door, not expecting her husband to answer but held onto the hope. When she knocked the door creaked open but no one was there so she decided to go in. The only thing she found was her husband’s body laying in the middle of the staircase, his neck twisted and eyes wide open and bloodshot. When the police arrived the only thing they found was a note sitting on a desk in a room on the floor below the light room. In the note it only said “I did my best but my mind is drained and I can no longer serve the light and must pass my duties to someone else. I can’t stand the light asking me to please come back“. After that they never found anyone to take care of the lighthouse for more than a week before they quit without warning and leaving the town so they ended up shutting the light off and leaving the building standing there abandoned”
I sat there terrified, holding my glass of milk tightly with both hands and not able to speak. He probably should not have been telling this story to an eight year old child girl with a rich imagination, or any eight year old at all.
I snapped out of it as there was knocking on the door and much to my relief heard my mothers voice on the other side calling my name telling me to go to my grandma’s house to take the dog out before bedtime.
It was much later than I thought so I rushed out and walked to my grandma’s house.
I debated if I should take the dog the usual route I did down to the lighthouse or just to the beach, but I was way too tired to risk having to dry him off if he ran into the ocean and got himself wet. So I pretended to be a brave girl and took the dirt road.
It was summer, and like Icelandic summers are, it was still pretty bright outside even with the sun starting to slowly set.
I released the dog to let him run and I walked down the road , occasionally throwing a rock for the dog to chase. After a short time we arrived at the lighthouse and I stopped a bit as I gazed up at it. It looked so menacing tonight after that story and I really wanted to just walk straight back home but as I was about to turn around I noticed the wooden door was half open, leading into the dark entrance.
Seeing that made my curiosity overpower my fear and I slowly walked towards the door. The smell was absolutely disgusting and I let out a loud grunt in revolt. But I kept going and I pushed the door open.
It creaked loudly as the noise echoed through the entire lighthouse and as it opened completely the sunlight lit up the room a little bit. I looked over at the dog laying on the ground sunbathing in the grass and told him to stay while I went in to look around.
The room was very small and empty outside a old oil canister and a shelf with some tools in it. There was a large circular steel staircase leading up and I, the tiny explorer, decided I was going up, even with the overwhelming smell that I could not remember smelling before.
It really wasn’t as scary walking up as I had expected and I started walking more confidently up the stairs, every step creating an echo from the sounds of my shoes stepping on the rusty steel.
The smell got stronger and stronger as I got further up, and it went far up, feeling way further than the size would suggest on the outside of the building.
I finally reached the top floor, it was dark but I could see it was an open space furnaced like a small studio apartment. There was a bed at one end with a nightstand and a closet, the other end had a stove, some shelfs and a kitchen table with two chairs by its sides but there was no toilet in sight and I wondered if people just peed their pants while staying there.
I looked around for a bit but found nothing of interest until I noticed a bucket by the bed and I looked into it, much to my disgust answering my bathroom question.
I heard a low creak above me but didn’t think much of it as it was a super old lighthouse and probably a lot of things that could create random noises.
After looking around in the dark for a bit I noticed a wooden ladder leading up to a closed hatch. Now I got excited again but as I started climbing I heard, what sounded like, the door downstairs slamming shut so I stopped.
Silence.
I stood there on the ladder looking at the direction of the staircase not able to move. I was scared again.
There was no wind outside so it couldn’t have just accidentally closed and even if it was windy the slam was way too hard.
Suddenly the echo of slow, heavy footsteps came from the staircase and I felt my body get covered in goosebumps as I panicked.
I rushed up the ladder towards the hatch and pushed it open, climbed up and closed the hatch again as I breathed heavily.
I could still hear the footsteps coming closer and closer up the stairs and I backed away from the hatch as silently as I could.
Then the footsteps stopped and there was no noise anymore.
I finally looked up at my surroundings and realized I was in the beacon room.
There were big windows on every side and in the center of the room the biggest lantern I had ever seen in my life. It was bright in there as the sunlight managed to shine through the windows so I got a little less scared.
I walked around the room but it was empty,, but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the lighthouse, like someone had been cleaning it regularly.
As I went back to the hatch to listen if someone was down there I tripped over my own legs and fell to the ground creating a noise way louder than I cared for, and I held my face in my hands as I lay there waiting for the hatch to open at any moment by whoever had slammed the door. But no one came and there was complete silence.
As I slowly stood up again, attempting to make as little noise as I could, I realized my left leg hurt to move. I tried to step down with it but screamed in agony. I had twisted my ankle when falling and I cried way louder than I cared for but I couldn’t control it.
I just sat there on the ground holding my leg and cried.
It was getting dark, and I knew I was supposed to be home already. I hoped my mom or grandma would walk up to the lighthouse to look for me and I could go home safe.
But no one came, no matter how long I waited. Every now and then I heard the dog bark outside, probably looking for me not understanding where I went. It was comforting to hear him but I really wished he would just run back home so someone would see I wasn’t with him.
The silence was getting unnerving, so I decided to crawl towards the hatch and put my ear against it.
Nothing.
Still scared to open it I sat back up by the hatch and started sobbing, no energy to keep crying even if I wanted to.
I think maybe an hour passed and it was completely dark outside, which meant the room was dark too with only a faint light from the moon shining in.
“So tired” I whispered to myself, my eyes barely holding themselves open and then everything went black. I don’t know how much time passed but I was awoken by a noise. It was coming from the hatch right next to me. Half asleep I backed up a bit from the hatch and I felt the adrenaline rush through my body. The hatch opened, but not all the way, just a tiny crack. I heard heavy, raspy breathing coming from downstairs and I wanted to cry again but couldn’t make a sound.
“Hello”
The voice sent a shiver down my whole body. It was high pitched, but sounded forced, like a man trying to talk like a girl, and with a disgusting gurgling like their throat was full of slime, like when you cough with a flu. I didn’t answer, just kept staring at the small crack on the hatch, attempting to see anything through it but it was pitch black.
“Hello”
The voice repeated but this time in a tone that sounded like it was trying to be friendly but I refused to reply.
It stayed quiet for a bit but I could still hear the uncomfortable breathing and the hatch did not close. I kept still, attempting to just stay quiet and hoping it would go away. Why hasn’t anyone come looking for me? Why hasn’t mom or grandma wondered why I didn’t bring the dog home again?
“HELLO”
My thoughts were interrupted by the voice, so loud it hurt my ears. It sounded angry and impatient. Why wasn’t it coming through the hatch? What did it want?
Suddenly I saw something move slowly up the ladder. Eyes, staring at me through the small crack, completely red where the white was supposed to be and the skin around it a mix of green and black like it was rotten. The smell was overwhelming now and I gagged uncontrollably when it hit me, the only thing stopping me from screaming my lungs out.
It giggled, like a clown in a horror movie. I saw it move its hands through the crack slowly, its nails completely black and the fingers a dark green and flaky like the skin was falling off.
“Come closer” it said in the same high pitch voice as earlier. “Please come closer, you’re such a pretty girl, I just need to look at you”
Its hands were now at the edge of my feet but I couldn’t move, I was completely petrified and my eyes glued to the eyes that kept staring at me wide open, like it was hypnotized by me.
Then I screamed in pain as it grabbed my ankles tightly and without thinking I used my good leg to kick the hatch down on its head and it let go as it fell down the ladder and the hatch closed. It screamed, but not in pain, it was angry, very angry, but it didn’t come back up, just kept screaming without taking a breath. The scream became more high-pitched the longer it kept going and my dog must have heard it because I heard him howl like he was trying to match the frequency. I called his name as loud as I could and his howling stopped. The screaming stopped at the same time and it went completely silent again. I started crying again wishing I could just be home in my bed. It stayed silent and in my hopefulness I crawled to the hatch and opened it slowly to peak into the room. It was gone and I decided to make a run for the door downstairs even if my leg was in tremendous pain. As I swung the hatch open all the way and started climbing down the ladder as fast as I could I heard the voice coming from above me.
“Don’t leave me” it said as it stood over the opening. I couldn’t see anything except the black outlines and the red eyes looking down on me and I immediately looked away and kept going down.
When I got to the floor I ran as fast as I could towards the staircase and screamed with every step I took but I did not stop. I rushed down the stairs and I heard the voice behind me screaming at me to come back, getting angrier and angrier the further down I got. Finally, when I got to the door, I pulled it so hard the doorknob broke off the rotting wood as I ran out. I called the dog as I kept running and he easily ran past me. I did not look back and I kept running and crying until I reached my grandma’s house. I rushed inside and slammed the door after me and locked it and the dog immediately went to his pillow on the floor and prepared to sleep.
All the lights were off and I thought to myself how my grandma could have gone to sleep knowing I was still out there for so long and I walked towards my grandma’s bedroom and there she was, asleep under her blanket and snoring. I was too tired to think about it and I went to my bedroom, there was not a chance in hell I was going to my house until the sun was up, even if it would only take me five minutes.
I fell asleep almost immediately and I remember dreaming about the lighthouse. Standing outside it gazing up at it. But the lights were lit and the lantern spun around in circles lighting up the ocean and the village as it did. Looking down at the door it was open and a man standing outside it staring at me.
“Please come back, sweetheart” he said in a deep, old man voice.
I woke up at that point, and sighed in slight relief that I was in my bed and I could feel weight on my legs but didn’t look up as the dog would usually lay by my feet when I slept and it made me feel safe and I closed my eyes again only to get disturbed by a bright light shining through my window that disappeared after a few seconds until it came back. It kept shining in and going dark in a consistent rhythm, like a light from a lighthouse and I quickly sat up and to my surprise there was nothing else other than me on the bed, no dog. What did I feel earlier then?
The light shined in again and I got out of bed and stumbled towards the window, looking towards the lighthouse. The beacon was shining and I froze as I just stared at the light flashing alternately over the ocean and the village.
“Come back” I heard whispered outside my bedroom door as it creaked open and I started crying, yet again. But much to my surprise the lights switched on and I turned around quickly, tears in my eyes I felt relief. It was my grandma asking me what was wrong.
I never told her or anyone else what happened and no one ever questioned why I came home so late. I stopped questioning it when I got older and was just grateful to be safe again. I had told them I hurt my leg on the walk after falling and they believed me. Me and my mother moved to the capital region on the other side of the country years later and I never went back to the lighthouse and still haven’t to this day even when I visit my grandma. But every time I’m visiting I always wake up by the lights going through my window at night and I can smell that disgusting stench again coming from outside the window.
This was only one of the things I experienced in my childhood while growing up there and even though I’m not a superstitious woman, I believe there’s something wrong with my hometown.