Out of the night's darkness she approaches the lighthouse - the moon as its backdrop - and drops to her knees at its door. The hoot of an owl reaches her ears from somewhere nearby and with great hope to find sanctuary from the ghosts that chase her this night bravely she rises and turns the rickety, old handle to enter the dusty gloom. Deeply she breathes to settle nerves frayed by what she could only hope was a current, though unusual, flight of fancy.
"I've been waiting for you, lass." The stir of her hair told her that whisper of breath from out of the darkness was not her imagination. Slowly, slowly she turned to stare into the inky blackness behind her to once again be denied the vision of her tormentor. She never understood how your heart could race while your feet turned to lead, until this moment when the world around her turned in slow motion. Too slow to reach the door before the clicking of the lock, she was trapped.
To be continued...
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