The Lighthouse: Prologue

My Fictional Stories

NotTheRealGun
3 min readMay 31, 2021

The lighthouse stood high above the still waters. The endless skies darkened upon seeing it. The shining star warped into distraught as the littlest light faded and the clouds moved slowly across the evening sky. The image shrunk as Mira wondered backwards into the real world. She stopped for a minute and became disheartened. For again, as the flashbacks took her a few hours behind. The scenery formed.

This took place in a desolated ship, floating between seas and seas. Traveling across many waves. Pointless to count. Floating to no end. Mira, her mother, and the crew prayed for the gods to bestow land upon them. The ship swiveled and shook, tilted and turned in this thunderous region. The rain, the lightning, the thunder all combined into one disastrous monster, hoping to tilt the ship over and engulf them into the deep dark ocean below. Though, the crew and their captain tried their best to get through this monstrosity. With dignity, they hold on.

The trembling carried on, no different from the ship’s attitude. Mira closed her eyes, wishing that the rampage would end. Her body shivers. Her heart screamed inside. Her eyes teared up and the best she could do is just to wait. The waiting game started. To count the sheep jumping over the eternal fence. To list the endless amount of numbers she could possibly think of. She waited. All that her mother could do is to calm her down. Making sure sanity was still in them. She hugged Mira and hoped for the best.

As each thump shook the ship along with the waves, the gusts of wind played its part aside. Shifting the sides, left and right, the ship tilted more like a Russian doll trying to fall over. The sun dropped down at last from the horizon and the moon emerged, emitting its lunar glory over the night seas.

Began the fury of lightning. The sharp blistering shock hailed down, and outburst its menacing roar to the ones who came to devil’s may. The blast went down, crunching through the metal walls of the ship, taking away rust as well as lives. The despair once again appeared suddenly across the people’s mind. With sorrow they held little determination. They could never go on. As well as Mira, the youngest of them all. She held her last fragment of courage she had and sit through, beside the metal wall in one corner.

The lightning showed its towering might and managed to bluntly chomp the ship apart into useless floating chunks and scraps across the inevitable ocean. People felt pain and drowned, each hugged their last breaths and seemed unknown when pulled down by the hands of the demons into the darkest depths of their aquatic doom. Mira grabbed the biggest metal plate she could find and held on tightly. She floated along the waters, passing her little boat across little areas of the sea. Mira noticed a voice, shouting at her with the most familiar sound to it. It was her mother. But it was too late. Each flay of the stream dragged her farther and farther away from Mira. She knew that her mother will remember her with the biggest heart of her life. With darkness and an unplanned path, she drew farther away from everybody else. The ship, the scraps, pulled away from Mira’s sight every minute. Every second. And now, she felt tired, asleep from the unbelievable past. Days and nights past by like flipping the next page of a book faster and faster. She woke up.

Mira begins another journey up close upon seeing The Lighthouse.

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NotTheRealGun
NotTheRealGun

Written by NotTheRealGun

Teenager. Philosopher. Programmer.

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