The Lighthouse Keeper....
The Lighthouse Keeper.... There was a lighthouse keeper when I was young, but not anymore. He guided the ships across the waters when the storms’ wrath sought to bury the sailors under the ruthless waves. He would shine a light through the ribbons of drifting mist flurrying across the ground, in long, pale tendrils.
I could feel my feet thumping against the hard, rocky, gravel path but my legs could only carry me so far, they already began to whine about being tired, but I had to keep going, he was right behind me. I wish my legs push as fast as my heart was pulsing. I kept going staring down at yellow tinted path cluttered with rocks and other debris, I tried to focus solely on my feet, but they were protesting with every stride. I witnessed a flash of old, tattered wood In front of me, I skidded to a halt stumbling backwards about to fall but managed to keep my balance. There were sirens in my head telling me to keep running but I couldn’t, I was surrounded by stone houses, that were tightly knit together like a quilt, all the greys and dulled yellows of the street merged, in the final moment and a surge of panic ran through my body.