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Weekly Contest #329
It was a dark and stormy night when Eleanor Marsh first arrived at Beacon Point Lighthouse, her weathered suitcase clutched in one hand and a crumpled letter of appointment in the other. The rain lashed against her face like tiny needles, and the wind howled with such ferocity that she could barely hear her own thoughts. Lightning split the sky in jagged forks, illuminating the towering structure before her—a sentinel of stone and iron that had stood watch over these treacherous waters for more than a century.She had not wanted this assignme...
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