Waves bashed against the side of the lighthouse. The beacon atop the structure ripped through the fog, warning any travelers. The loud horn yelled, alerting everything of the razor-sharp rocks that it perched on. A hooded object teetered along the stone pathway leading to the base of the lighthouse. The wind continued to push the man toward the calling sea. He endured; with every slippery step and crashing ocean force, the drenched man continued. Reaching the hard-wood door, he braced himself for another volley of destruction from the sea. As the waves broke their attack for a moment, the man removed a key from his pocket and thrust it into the hole above the knob. With a satisfying click, the man breathed relief as he stepped inside the safety of the lighthouse. The lighthouse was dark, the candles along the wall were long burnt out. The man walked around the first floor with ease, not allowing the complete darkness to slow his movement through the cluttered room. Reaching the base of the spiraling steps, the man shed his wet coat dropping it to the wood floor. Beginning his climb, the man ran his wrinkled hand along the cold stone, he seemed to smile as a warmth washed over him. Nearing the half way point the old man stopped and breathed deep. Smiling once more, his legs shook in protest as he continued the climb. As the climb continued, the path became brighter and brighter as the lighthouse smiled upon the man every few seconds. Reaching the top, the aged man collapsed to the floor. Still breathing, he rolled over to welcome the warm light washing over him. Above the sound of the ocean’s war, the horn blared once more.
“Yes…I have missed you too. It has been too long.” The old man struggled to speak the words as he stood.
Shuffling over to a table along the wall the man sat. He froze for a moment, not from the cold or the blinding light. Standing atop the table was a dusty framed picture. The father and son in the picture stood smiling in front of the lighthouse door, a cut red ribbon at their feet.
Reaching out the picture, a shaky hand grabbed it. Wiping the dust off the frame and memorizing the image on last time, the old man placed it back in it’s exact spot. The horn blasted again.
“I miss dad too.” A tear fell down the weathered man’s face mixing with the ocean soaked shirt he wore.
Smiling once more, the old man closed his eyes and breathed slowly, allowing the salt air to fill his lungs. The melody of the crashing waves eased the man deep into his chair. The horn rang out once more as the old man slowly stopped breathing. The circling light flashed across his face then seemed to slow as it crossed the picture.
I hope you enjoyed this Flash Fiction Friday. I wanted to start something new. Everyday I will be writing Flash Fiction. On Friday’s I will post one of the one’s I have done that week. At the end of the month, the pieces I have written will be collected and published in an anthology. Enjoy!
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