The small town of Willowbrook was nestled between rolling green hills and dense, whispering forests. On the edge of this picturesque place stood an old, abandoned lighthouse that had long been forgotten by most residents. Its weathered white paint was peeling, and its once bright lantern room was now cloaked in a tangle of vines and rust. Despite its derelict state, the lighthouse held a quiet mystery that seemed to whisper stories of the past to those willing to listen. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow over the town, the lighthouse’s silhouette became more pronounced against the fading sky. Its tall, narrow form reached upward like a silent guardian watching over the land. The air around it was thick with the scent of moss and damp stone, a testament to years of neglect and the passage of time. Occasionally, a cool breeze swept through, making the vines sway and creating a ghostly chorus of leaves that seemed to hum ancient melodies. Inside the lighthouse, the spiral staircase was barely visible beneath a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Wooden steps, curved and fragile with age, wound upward to the lantern room at the top. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, catching the light that filtered through broken windows. As one climbed higher, the view of the surrounding landscape grew more expansive. From the narrow balcony outside the lantern room, the entire town could be seen—clusters of colorful rooftops, winding streets, and the shimmering lake that lay beyond. The lighthouse’s interior was filled with quiet echoes of the past. Old, rusted lanterns still hung on the walls, and faded paintings of ships and stars decorated the peeling wallpaper. Despite its abandonment, the place retained a sense of majesty and purpose, as if waiting patiently for someone to restore it to its former glory. Sometimes, local children would dare each other to climb to the top, their footsteps echoing softly on the creaking stairs. They imagined it as a ship’s lookout, standing sentinel over the town and the vast, open sea beyond. At night, when the moon was high, the lighthouse seemed to come alive in a different way. Shadows danced across its walls, and the wind often whistled through the cracks, sounding like distant voices carried from the depths of time. Many believed that the lighthouse was haunted by the spirits of sailors who had once relied on its light to guide them safely home. Yet, others thought it simply held the magic of stories long forgotten, waiting patiently for someone brave enough to uncover its secrets. Despite its eerie reputation, the lighthouse remained a symbol of hope and resilience for the people of Willowbrook. It reminded them of the importance of guidance, safety, and the enduring power of history. Whether standing tall against storms or quietly rusting away with the passing years, it was a reminder that even in decay, beauty and purpose could still be found. And perhaps, someday, someone would come along to breathe new life into its old stones, restoring the lighthouse to shine once more.

Answer the following questions based on the passage above.