A fluid swirl with a short life, I cease when the stirrer stops stirring, the drain stops draining, the whirlwind stops whirling.

A perfect tool at the campfire to tell stories every time someone wants to see some spooky shadows

From ancient seas to grains so small, I sit with pepper, known to all. A pinch of me can change the whole, awaken taste from dull to bold.

I tell you someone has arrived, but I have no mouth. I was mechanical back in the day, but my electrical variant wouldn't appear until the year eighteen-thirty-one. What am I?

In lofty heights, I stand so tall, A watchful needle, I call. With silent song, I'm close to skies, Guiding prayers through my eyes.