I repeatedly checked the data from the meteorological equipment, hoping to find a reasonable explanation. Perhaps it was equipment failure, perhaps I had hallucinated in my fatigue and the rain. But that set of data stubbornly remained—air completely stationary for 8.7 seconds, which is simply unheard of in meteorology.
Even more inexplicable was my grandmother's pocket watch. I stared at the date displayed on its face: 15th September, 1925. This pocket watch had never had the function of displaying the year, I remembered perfectly well. I gently shook it, tapped the face, but the date remained unmoved. My fingers caressed the back of the case, feeling those familiar patterns, as my thoughts drifted back to childhood memories.
"This is our family treasure," my grandmother had told me when I was young, "One day, it will lead you to the answers." At the time I thought it was just an old woman's nonsense, but now I felt her words seemed to have a deeper meaning.
I decided to investigate thoroughly. After returning to the small inn in town, I quickly took a hot shower, changed into clean clothes, and headed straight for the town's only library.
Fog Corner's library was a Victorian-style building, its wooden structure already mottled from erosion by sea winds. The librarian was an elderly woman nearly seventy, her grey-white hair neatly pinned in a bun, wearing old-fashioned glasses, busy dusting a stack of ancient books.
"Good morning, I'd like to look up some historical materials about the Fog Corner lighthouse," I said, "especially regarding events around 1925."
The old woman's hand stopped in mid-air, scrutinizing me through her thick lenses. "Why are you interested in that lighthouse?" her tone carried a hint of caution.
"I'm a research fellow in meteorology from Boston University in the States," I showed her my credentials, "I'm studying anomalous weather phenomena in this area, and some clues seem to be related to the lighthouse."
She looked at me doubtfully for a moment, then slowly nodded. "There are some materials in the basement archives, though not many. After that accident, many records were lost."
The basement archive room smelled like a mixture of damp paper and mould. In the old filing cabinets, I finally found several yellowed newspapers and a handwritten journal recording major events in Fog Corner from 1920 to 1930.
The front-page report of the "Fog Corner Daily" from 21st September, 1926 caught my attention:
"Lighthouse Tragedy: Keeper Jack Howard Missing, Lighthouse Severely Damaged"
The article described an incident during a sudden storm where lighthouse keeper Jack Howard mysteriously disappeared. The lighthouse was severely damaged by what witnesses described as "blue lightning descending from the sky." Even stranger, the article mentioned "inexplicable temporal anomalies"—disruptions in the normal flow of time—found at the accident scene. Multiple witnesses claimed their watches reversed or jumped at the time of the accident.
My heart raced; this was too similar to what I had experienced yesterday.
Subsequent reports mentioned a large amount of fog appearing in town afterward, lasting an entire week, after which the lighthouse was declared permanently closed. Some superstitious townspeople began to whisper that the lighthouse was entwined with a "curse of time," and Jack Howard was believed to have been "swallowed by time."
I continued browsing and found a town council record from 1925 with Jack Howard's signature and a blurry black and white photograph. The young man in the photo had a handsome face, with determined yet melancholic eyes, wearing a lighthouse keeper's uniform. For some reason, I stared at that photo for a long time, with an inexplicable sense of familiarity washing over me.
"Found something interesting?"
I was startled by the sudden voice, turning to see an elderly man in a vintage suit standing behind me, his silver hair meticulously combed back, holding a steaming cup of tea.
"I'm Owen Blake," he introduced himself with a smile, "sponsor of this library and a history enthusiast in town. Susan told me a young scientist was interested in our lighthouse."
I briefly introduced my research project but was cautious not to mention yesterday's abnormal experience.
"The lighthouse," Owen's eyes sparkled with a peculiar light, "that's the most mysterious place in Fog Corner. Do you know the town legend?"
I shook my head, and he sat down opposite me, his teacup making a slight clinking sound on the wooden table.
"Legend has it that the lighthouse wasn't just for guiding ships," his voice lowered, as if sharing a secret, "it was also an anchor point for time. Every so often, especially on foggy days, the lighthouse would become a bridge connecting past and present. Some say that under specific conditions, you can even hear voices from the past and see scenes from bygone days."
My hand unconsciously tightened around the pocket watch in my pocket.
"Of course, this is just old people's superstition," he chuckled, shaking his head, but his gaze was unusually sharp, as if observing my reaction, "however, phenomena unexplained by science may one day be unravelled by science, wouldn't you agree, Miss Morrison?"
"Perhaps," I responded cautiously, "you seem to know a lot about these legends."
"My grandfather lived in this town when the lighthouse accident occurred," he took a sip of tea, "he left behind some diaries and items that I've kept. If you're interested, you can visit my antique shop. It's 'Time Collection' at the end of Main Street."
I thanked him for his invitation. As he rose to leave, he suddenly turned back: "By the way, Miss Morrison, your pocket watch is special. If you encounter any... unusual situations, perhaps I could help."
His gaze fell on my chest, and I realised the watch chain was visible outside my shirt. I hadn't told him anything about the watch, yet he seemed to know something.
After Owen left, I continued reviewing materials and discovered more disturbing coincidences. In the months before lighthouse keeper Jack Howard's disappearance, local newspapers reported a series of strange meteorological anomalies—fog appearing in clear weather, clocks collectively malfunctioning, and some even claiming to have seen "the same person appearing in two places simultaneously."
I turned to another page, and a detail made me gasp. The report mentioned that Jack Howard had submitted a request to the town council regarding "temporal anomaly research" before his disappearance, but it was rejected. Some of his research notes were said to be preserved in a room within the lighthouse.
As evening fell, I left the library, deciding to take another look at the abandoned lighthouse by the sea. The sunset cast its outline extraordinarily clear, the damaged top like a crack splitting the orange-red sky.
Standing by the sea, I took out the pocket watch and found the date had returned to normal—but the second hand was still slowly moving counterclockwise. A sea breeze blew, and I seemed to hear again that voice calling my name, soft as a whisper, yet unmistakably clear.
"Ella... find Jack..."
I turned abruptly, looking around, but the beach was empty. Only dense fog was rising from the sea surface, slowly spreading toward the shore.
I knew tomorrow I must investigate that abandoned lighthouse.