Jake Foster

Jake Foster

I was just patrolling the outskirts of this here light house with the sun beating down on me when I spotted a small chip on the floor. It was covered in seawater but still edible. I swooped down to go get it but a strange wind picked up and blew me off course. I looked up and saw it, a giant mass of rolling clouds bounding towards me like a lion chasing its prey. I knew then what was coming. The waters rose up and pounded the rocks, sweeping away my chip. All debris and stones were whipped up by the harsh winds, to disappear and never be seen again. I was struggling to keep in the air, the winds blew me this way and that The occasional lightning strike illuminated the cold, cold depths below. The waters pounded the thin frame of the lighthouse and I was sure that it was going to be blown away, but it held on steadied by ages of dried concrete and grime. I was flying around aimlessly. Fear had its icy grip on me and I managed to stumble in to the balcony of the lighthouse: there I saw the true power of the storm, huge rolling waves smashed in to the shoreline, crushing buildings like they were made of paper.