The Lighthouse, chapter 1
She sat, with her palms pressed softly against her inner thighs. What she wanted, and what she could grasp, were different. The stories, careless whispers that had miserably stuck to her ears and into her mind.
"Don't go to the lighthouse."
Child's words, was her conclusion. She was brave, she was unbelieving. After many nights of tossing and turning in her bed, she crawled to her window, her palms cupping the rim of the windowsill. With her button nose against the glass, she glanced out, at the sea, at the lighthouse.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
"I am brave," she told herself. She didn't cliche herself into packing a bag, or leaving a note.
"Some things are better left unsaid."
Whatever she didn't tell, should be understood. She wasn't born the city, she didn't belong. Her dad was gone. Her mother's heart would live on.
Be strong.
She finally was set free.
Her fragile bones stood strong and tall against the rocks and the waves, as she pressed herself against her heart and vowed to escape. She would go where she belonged. But those voices, from the faceless people in the city, still clung to her.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
She began, her journey. She sweat, and she cried. She pushed herself to move forward, when she wanted to give way.
She had to make it to the lighthouse.
Why?
Because of the voices who haunted her, "Don't go in the lighthouse."
When she arrived, everything was rusted over. She cringed, she opened the door. The dust, the decay, the smell sunk into her head. She burst open and fell into the sea, where she sank, under the water.
A hand saved her.
She couldn't grab it, she felt dead, but unsure why. All she could see in the fog, was a soft skeleton. But it pulled her up, onto the sand, the rocks, the dirt. Where she coughed, she cried, and was forced to listen.
"Look at me," the male voice said.
She refused to look up. Defiance had earned her too much to cave.
While she sat on the shore, hugging herself, looking out at the sea, the shadow towerered over her from behind.
Against her will, he told her a story. Of his lover, a pure and young girl. A girl he loved, not lusted. He told his story, and concluded it. He waited there every night, to look for his lover, that he had lost. The last she had been seen. The lighthouse. She disapeared, everyone disapeared. He now stood along and cold. With the loss of his lover, to decay in the remains of the lighthouse's mold.
"I loved her," he said.
He begged her to come into the lighthouse.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
She accepted.
"Your lover died?" she asked him, tilting her head.
"No," he coldy said.
She stepped into the lighthouse.
The door was now locked from the outside.
Two ghosts in the lighthouse.
"Don't go to the lighthouse."
Child's words, was her conclusion. She was brave, she was unbelieving. After many nights of tossing and turning in her bed, she crawled to her window, her palms cupping the rim of the windowsill. With her button nose against the glass, she glanced out, at the sea, at the lighthouse.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
"I am brave," she told herself. She didn't cliche herself into packing a bag, or leaving a note.
"Some things are better left unsaid."
Whatever she didn't tell, should be understood. She wasn't born the city, she didn't belong. Her dad was gone. Her mother's heart would live on.
Be strong.
She finally was set free.
Her fragile bones stood strong and tall against the rocks and the waves, as she pressed herself against her heart and vowed to escape. She would go where she belonged. But those voices, from the faceless people in the city, still clung to her.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
She began, her journey. She sweat, and she cried. She pushed herself to move forward, when she wanted to give way.
She had to make it to the lighthouse.
Why?
Because of the voices who haunted her, "Don't go in the lighthouse."
When she arrived, everything was rusted over. She cringed, she opened the door. The dust, the decay, the smell sunk into her head. She burst open and fell into the sea, where she sank, under the water.
A hand saved her.
She couldn't grab it, she felt dead, but unsure why. All she could see in the fog, was a soft skeleton. But it pulled her up, onto the sand, the rocks, the dirt. Where she coughed, she cried, and was forced to listen.
"Look at me," the male voice said.
She refused to look up. Defiance had earned her too much to cave.
While she sat on the shore, hugging herself, looking out at the sea, the shadow towerered over her from behind.
Against her will, he told her a story. Of his lover, a pure and young girl. A girl he loved, not lusted. He told his story, and concluded it. He waited there every night, to look for his lover, that he had lost. The last she had been seen. The lighthouse. She disapeared, everyone disapeared. He now stood along and cold. With the loss of his lover, to decay in the remains of the lighthouse's mold.
"I loved her," he said.
He begged her to come into the lighthouse.
"Don't go in the lighthouse."
She accepted.
"Your lover died?" she asked him, tilting her head.
"No," he coldy said.
She stepped into the lighthouse.
The door was now locked from the outside.
Two ghosts in the lighthouse.
