Atop the lighthouse he gazed to sea, proud, lonely, his pitted face protected from wind-whipped raindrops by a knotted, salt-caked beard.

The barber had offered a free shave, but who’d ever heard of a beardless lighthouse keeper?

He didn’t realize… It was his own lighthouse, broadcasting to all, “Steer clear!”

This story was based on the prompt “lighthouse” at TypeTrigger.