The Last Lamplighter🔊

Once upon a time, in a quaint little village named Dobring, there lived an elderly man named Mr. Olav. His life was closely knitted with the heartbeat of the village. With the passage of time, Mr. Olav undertook a role that defined him invincible, unique; he was the village's last lamplighter. Each evening, as darkness unfurled its cloak, Mr. Olav dutifully trudged through Dobring's winding streets, marking the onset of night by lighting the colonial gas street lamps that illuminated the village.

One particular night, as Mr. Olav was preparing to embark on his routine evening lamp lighting escapade, there was a sudden knock at his door. It was Dr. Hensley, the only doctor of the village, bearing news about Olav's long-ailing wife, Anna. Sadly, she had taken a turn for the worse. With a heavy heart, Mr. Olav rushed to his wife's side, leaving the lamps unlit. That night, the village of Dobring was swallowed by an eerie darkness which the villagers had never experienced before.

The following morning, Anna peacefully passed away; Mr. Olav felt a part of him go with her. In his grief, the lamplighter couldn't muster the strength to return to his duties. However, a few days later, he saw young villagers stumbling and tripping in the darkness of the night; witnessing this ignited him into action again. He returned to his mission, his duty of lighting the village became a symbol of hope, resilience, and continuity despite the loss and personal pain he was experiencing.

A few weeks later, the town mayor brought his attention to an impending arrival of new electric street lights that were to replace the traditional gas lamps. The villagers of Dobring were excited about the promise of brighter nights and modernity knocking at their doorstep. However, this change brought a sense of gloom to Mr. Olav. The lamps that he found solace in, provided purpose to his really life, were on the brink of being obsolete.

With the arrival of the electric lights, Mr. Olav’s lamp lighting duties were no longer required. Though the villagers frolicked under the brighter electric sparkle, Mr. Olav felt his world becoming increasingly darker. He missed those quiet, peaceful trips down the lanes of Dobring, with his gas lamp and lighting pole. Along with the gas lamps, he felt his sense of purpose lost.

One evening, Mr. Olav decided to relive his old routine. He gathered his equipment, donned his lamplighter uniform and visited each lamp, just like he used to do. As he proceeded, little clusters of villagers followed him, giggling children, solemn adults; they watched as he continued his ceremonious round.

A sense of nostalgia enveloped the crowd; they felt a sudden longing for the familiar, warm amber lights of the gas lamps, reminiscent of a simpler time before the arrival of harsh brightness of electricity. As the villagers watched Mr. Olav, a sense of respect and gratitude towards him swelled among them, they recognized the selfless service provided by him over the years; realized that he was not just a lamplighter, he was a keeper of tradition, a protector in the dark, an unwavering symbol of resilience and continuity.

With this appreciation, the community decided not to let go of their old lamps. They opted to keep weekends as 'vintage nights,' where the gas lamps would be lit, and as for Mr. Olav, he resumed his task, now with more pride and joy. He was no longer just a retired lamplighter in a small old town, he was the preserver of their legacy, the 'Last Lamplighter.'