Matthew Reed

Matthew Reed

It stood there majestically, towering above the little vast ocean below it. The lighthouse was situated above slated rocks, carved after thousands of years of erosion, still being eroded today. It stood proudly 50ft above the waters, a heaven, to anyone who found it.

However, today it was deadly. Vicious waves sped past the lowly Victorian tower, isolating it from the modern world. Down below, the currents swept through all the sea, taking fish and shark alike, rubble and rocks. No one was safe. The lighthouse shone through the foggy clouds above, casting a glisten above the rocky, raging, ruthless waves. It was like its own sun, shining down on us from the terror.

Just like all good things come to an end, so do all bad things. Just as quickly as it came, the storm had moved on. It had worked its magic today, and huge chunks of debris has been cut off the solemn island. Finally, away from all the destruction that the storm had brought them, the island that the lighthouse was atop settled. The lights had been shut, the seagulls had begun flying once again, and the sun shone. It was an enchanting day, the water being a polar opposite from the previous days. Serenity was back, and peace had been restored. Everything has good days. Everything has bad days.