The thunderous rushing
of ravenous waves,
hungrily devouring those
that get in the way.
The tidal assualt keeps crashing.
Foamy seas churning,
angry they spray the air.
The old building stands there.
Walls crumbling
under sea salt barrage.
The lighthouse door opens with a click,
empty it seems, not a sound inside
though the air feels thick.
Eerily quiet,
just the muffled sound
of waves against stone
and the quiet intake
of his breath. Alone.
It bounces
from the walls,
the wooden beams.
It echoes
up the stairway.
The spiral that he'd seen
in his most fearful dreams.
Footstep on cold stone,
hit with a slap, the sound
not too dissimilar in tone
to that of a thunderclap.
He takes the steps
one by one.
Slowly.
He has seen this place
in so many dreams.
"Nightmares."
The voice in his head screams
as his heart starts to pace.
The treacherous stone
slippery and wet.
The shivery thoughts
slip through his head.
Roof leaking.
It drips, drips, drips.
He reaches the top
and from the inky backdrop,
that gurgled moan,
previously just a nightly drone.
Now rumbles through
his shattering bones,
as he tumbles down
these crumbling stones.
His neck snapping as he slips.
Thanks for reading
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