Grayson Islands

"And they say that ever since, he has been waiting on the pier for his promised bride. And even now, after hundreds of years, on a moonlit night, you can sometimes glimpse the outline of his gaunt figure..." The old storyteller paused meaningfully and looked at his young listeners. "That's all nonsense, Grandpa!" the eldest of them finally broke the silence. "Everyone knows that such things don't happen!" "Yes, you're just trying to scare us!" the others gradually joined in. "Well, as they say, a tale may contain a kernel of truth," the old man smirked through his thick gray beard. "Can we go play in the yard now, Grandpa?" "Go ahead, but be back here by lunchtime; Grandma has made some delicious pancakes!" "Hooray, thank you!" As the joyful children left the veranda, the old man leaned back in his rocking chair and looked up. "It's cloudy today. You can't even see the sky behind those gloomy clouds." Having finished muttering, the old man took out his pipe, filled the bowl with tobacco, and lit it, lost in thought about something too distant and unattainable.