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September 15th, 2026
by Nurzusilawati Nadzri
When electricity came to Kampung Teluk, every house abandoned its kerosene lamps. Every house except my grandmother's. Each evening, just before sunset, she cleaned the glass chimney, trimmed the wick, and lit the old pelita ayam that stood on a wooden shelf facing the sea. "Why?" I once asked. She smiled. "So nobody gets lost." I thought she meant fishermen. After she died, the lamp remained where she had left it. Dust gathered on the glass. Nobody lit it anymore. Months later, while sorting through her belongings, I found a photograph tucked inside an old Qur'an. The picture showed a young man standing beside a fishing boat. On the back, in faded ink, were three words: Never came home. My grandfather. He had disappeared during a monsoon storm more than fifty years earlier. No body was ever found. No grave was ever built. That evening, I carried the lamp to the shelf overlooking the sea. The village was quiet. Far beyond the coconut trees, the horizon dissolved into mist. I cleaned the chimney. Trimmed the wick. Lit the flame. For a moment, the glass glowed amber against the gathering dark. Then I understood. The lamp had never been for the living. It was a beacon for one man who had been expected home every night for half a century. Outside, the sea breathed softly in the distance. Inside, the little flame waited.
About the Author
Nurzusilawati Nadzri resides in Kuala Berang, Terengfanu, Malaysia.
Read the writer's biography and Flash Fiction Takeover publications
on Nurzusilawati Nadzri's Artist Page.
Previously published in Flash Fiction Takeover:
Guile
by Doreen Vanderstoop
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