In the coastal village of Pasni, Balochistan, where the Arabian Sea roars against jagged cliffs, stood an abandoned lighthouse known as Noor Minar. For decades, the lantern inside never stopped glowing—though no one tended it, and the power was long gone.
Locals believed the place was cursed.
But sixteen-year-old Amal didn’t believe in curses. She was a student of science, a dreamer, and newly moved from Karachi with her mother after her father’s death.
When she asked about the lighthouse, the old fishermen only muttered, “No one goes near it after maghrib. The Lantern Keeper sees everything.”
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Chapter Two: The Midnight Glow
Their new home was near the shoreline. At night, Amal often sat on the rooftop, staring at the distant light flickering from Noor Minar. It was faint, golden—steady. Not electric. Not fire.
One night, she saw a shadow move behind the light.
“There’s someone up there,” she whispered.
She decided to find out for herself.
Chapter Three: The Locked Gate
Amal borrowed a bike and rode to the cliffs after school. The lighthouse loomed above her, worn down by storms and time. The gate was chained shut, but through the cracks, she could see the spiral stairs inside. Old. Dusty. Untouched.
And yet… there were footprints in the sand.
She snapped a picture, but when she looked at her phone—nothing was there. Just static.
That night, her dreams were filled with whispers in Balochi: "Roshni ko samajh… ya gum ho ja."
(Understand the light… or be lost.)
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Chapter Four: The Journal of the Keeper
Amal met an old woman named Naz Bibi, who once worked in the village library. When she mentioned Noor Minar, Naz Bibi’s eyes darkened.
“The lighthouse was manned until 1971,” she said. “Last keeper was a man named Qazi Rahim. He wrote a journal. Said the light spoke to him.”
“Where is he now?”
“No one knows. Some say he walked into the sea during a storm.”
Amal tracked down the journal—half-burnt, left in a box of donated books. Most pages were gone. But one note remained:
> "The light chose me. It shows not the sea, but the soul."
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Chapter Five: Inside the Minar
Determined, Amal returned at dusk with bolt cutters and a lantern of her own. She cut through the rusted chain and stepped inside.
The stairs creaked under her weight. The walls were lined with old maps, names scratched into stone.
At the top was the great lantern—still glowing. No flame. No wires.
As she stepped forward, the glow flared, blinding her. A whisper filled the chamber.
“You are not him… but you carry grief.”
She stumbled back. Her lantern fell and shattered.
Chapter Six: The Griefkeeper
The light dimmed slightly, revealing a figure. Transparent. Tall. Wearing a lighthouse keeper’s coat.
“I kept the light so no soul would be lost at sea,” the ghostly man said. “But one soul… mine… could not return.”
Amal stood frozen.
“I… I lost my father,” she whispered. “He was on a boat. We never found his body.”
The ghost turned to her.
“That is why you were called. Noor Minar guards the last memories of those taken by the sea.”
Suddenly, images filled the glass walls—boats, storms, faces. Among them, her father, smiling at the helm of his fishing boat.
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Chapter Seven: The Choice
“You can ask the light to show you one truth,” the Keeper said. “But it comes with a price.”
“What kind of truth?”
“How he died. Or if he still lives. But if you ask… you must replace me.”
Amal's breath caught. “What happens then?”
“You’ll guard the light until another broken soul finds it.”
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Chapter Eight: The Answer
She sat by the lantern, hands trembling. Her heart screamed for closure—but her mind knew the cost.
Then she took out a small locket her father had gifted her. She placed it at the base of the lantern.
“Show me what I need… not what I want.”
The light turned blue.
And then, a vision: her father, not drowning… but helping others into lifeboats during a storm. His boat sinking. His final prayer whispered as he vanished into the waves.
Peace.
Not fear. Not confusion.
She cried—for the first time in months, with release.
Chapter Nine: The Keeper’s Release
The ghost of Qazi Rahim smiled.
“You’ve given the light its meaning back,” he said. “Not all truths must trap us.”
The gears around the lantern clicked, and the great light flickered—and then went out.
For the first time in fifty years.
The lighthouse was quiet.
The ghost vanished.
And Amal stepped out into the morning sun, a weight lifted from her chest.
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Epilogue
Years later, Amal became a marine scientist, helping coastal communities with safety systems and early warning systems.
Noor Minar still stands—now a silent monument.
And though its light no longer glows… some nights, people say they see a girl with a lantern standing at the top, keeping watch—for the souls of the sea.
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