Just messing around with my thoughts...
The veil of darkness loomed over the the edge of the water as the fiery sphere plunged into its afterlife. The black cover was woven with stormy spittle as the brisk night began to produce the ingredients for death. The old keeper of the lighthouse tried to force youthful strength back into his bones as he worked the tremors from his joints. He knew that many depended on his efforts, but not only his efforts, his success.
Her glory climbed over the hills striking the icy valleys with her bow. The wind breezed through her beautiful dark hair that bellowed from her masts. The sleek and shapely curves of her well aged hull traversed the black water seeking refuge from the coming disturbance. She skated across the crests searching for the rhythm of the coastal flame, but without seeing any pattern. The eyes in the nest haven squinted to and fro until finally the goal was found.
The weathered man summoned his strength to climb the spiraled steel. The years stole his speed and agility, but he pressed on with stamina that still remained in his bones, determination that increased with every year unlike the energy levels that were chipping away. There was a sense of urgency in this night. Not one driven by what was seen or heard in the skies, but a smell and feeling that only his many years had taught him. The feeling in his marrow and the sparks of ache that limited his ability gave aid to sixth sense to feel the storm rolling onto the seashore.
The cold front was slicing across the coastal region with such speed that was rarely witnessed. The conditions had never been seen by this generation, nor by the seafarers of centuries past. This was an ancient storm that had laid dormant for over a thousand years. In one arm it held a spray of precipitation ready to layer it over the sea and coast to smother every detail, while in the other arm a cast of chill that would set the moisture like Medusa's glare. The ghostly storm leered down upon its prey bouncing over the salty ripples.
The petite vessel struggled against the vortex working toward the haven of the bay. Her name visible in the flashes of lightning stretched across her stern. The letters giving indication of her heritage. The years that she dedicated to the seas were not easily foretold by the texture of her deck for she maintained a youthful complexion. Her holds held the most precious of cargo. Her arms were few, but state of the art for the standard vessels not of the military. However, no feature would assist her efforts without the stability of the man made star on the horizon. The light was dimming. It took the keen sight of the young captain to focus on the candle on the water. The flicker was diminished though, and the man on the wheel began to petition to the Almighty Himself.
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Originally Posted by Maryd.
