The lighthouse stands alone upon the cliff, its haunted windows gazing upon the endless swells. In its decay, whispers remain, folding into the fabric of fog and solitude. Salty breaths of forgotten sea sprites weave stories of sailors swallowed whole by omens unheeded.
The beams solidified into beams of chilled solace; recoiling against shades that crawl ever closer. Nightly rhythms dictated by the biting winds, relentless inows as the stones serve conduits for new beginnings forged in coral and rusted memories.
Listen now: