This story started at the end of the day. Or, at the beginning of the night. It was right before the sun fully disappeared behind the horizon line and there was a hope to see a flash of green. But it never usually did flash, instead the orange and pink and red became a little dimmer and deepened into the night. The colors lingered for a little while, but with a turn of the head's direction and gaze up at the opposite part of the sky, there was already a deep dark blue, maybe lit by the moon if it was a clear night. Amidst this night was a girl who wished so deeply to speak to the universe. She was sure they spoke all of the time but in a way that was not as conversational as she would have liked. She wished she could hear the universe's words and see its face and lips move while it spoke to her. And finally, the universe heard her plea.

This particular night was a clear one. The day had started foggy and overcasted but made

way for the colors of the sky to end the day and left the salted air feeling warm and clear. The sky was vast and round and was far enough away from the city that there shone plenty of light from the stars and the moon. The light let the girl walk along the sea wall so that she could see the patchy grass to her right and the white capped crashing of waves atop of rocks to her left. The wall was wide, yet it still felt like a balancing act, everytime the waves sprayed her feet with a cool mist it left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. So it felt safer to move toward the right, stepping down onto the patchy grass to ensure she stayed atop of the water line. She anticipated the end of the seawall, where she knew there was a group of kids who sat with cans and cigarettes and stared at the stars and lit the sky further with fires and buts. They were already there, the usual crowd, all except for one who ventured down the seawall by herself.

The girl was late as her grandparents had stayed for dinner and made her light each candle in the window only after the supper was completed and the dishes were cleared and washed. Then as quickly as possible she changed and fled down to the water with her own bag full of cans clinking behind her. She had missed the chance to see the green light flash when the last bit of sun went behind the horizon, and felt an angst of annoyance with the misunderstanding of being a young girl in her day and age. So she rushed, skipping the uneasy feeling as the waves crashed upon her ankles and letting the confidence of having walked the path so many times guide her toward the laughter and freedom of her friends.

Her skip turned into a run until she was breathless, yet she still hadn't reached the end of

the wall. Usually the walk felt much shorter, but this time it had felt like an eternity. Rounding the usual corner of bushes, her feet took a sharp right following the sea wall's path. However, instead of seeing the group of her peers waiting to embrace her, she was met by a lighthouse, standing tall and domineering. How could that be? A place she had been to maybe a hundred times to be suddenly so different. She recognized the lighthouse, it usually stood small out in the middle of the water. Yet here it was, around the corner of the seawall, right in front of her. She felt confusion, but not fear. Something spoke to her that was familiar. She continued toward thelighthouse. As she neared she heard the wind scream with delight and suddenly words materialized in her ears.

You've been wishing to speak to me, said the lighthouse.

The girl paused, then simply asked if it was the universe she was speaking to.

Well I am a lighthouse, said the lighthouse. But maybe I can speak in a way more clearly

than the universe. Ask me your questions.

Still unconvinced, but intrigued, the girl started

How is it that you moved all the way out from the middle of the sea to right here at the

end of my path?

I am where I need to be, to warn the sailors, to speak to you.

The girl wanted more.

How did I end up running into you?

The lighthouse questioned.

What is coincidence, if not fate?

The girl pondered for a moment. She went for the hard hitter next.

What is the meaning of life?

I don't know. Said the lighthouse plainly.

You don't know? The girl cried out, frustrated. You're the universe and you don't know

the meaning of it all?

I am a lighthouse who speaks to the universe, just as you do. But I can tell you that the meaning of your life is different from mine, and is different from the universe's. I can not tell you your meaning, just as the universe can't. Maybe you must find it yourself.

Unsatisfied, she tried one last question.

How did you, a lighthouse, learn to speak?

Everything around you speaks, it is only when you listen that you can hear them.

In her short conversation of riddles with the lighthouse, she had not seen its mouth or lips, but she had gotten what she wanted out of her wish to converse with the universe, and she had realized something. Maybe it wasn't the universe she wanted to speak to after all. For it didn't know any more than she did. Even something that seemed to be the most powerful, omniscient thing, the universe itself might know nothing at all.

She swirled her way down and out of the tall and big lighthouse and followed the sounds of sudden voices that cut the clear air with laughter. She burst through the rusted door to find her friends sprawled across the wall, laying and looking up at the stars. Rejoiced, she rushed to them, turning back to point and showing them the lighthouse that could talk to the universe, only to find the night and horizon as clear as it always was, a gasp of the crisp air was all she could muster.