The storms unsettled the sea and land. Blinding the town; in forever darkness. The sky bleated with faded signs, of light, nothing, close to the casting, of a falling full moon behind the lines of life.
Mountains from afar, gaze upon as the hellfire gate was to open. With, nothing but a demon stares down on the town.
Knowing, the shipping of the months to come would never make through the storm.
Something had to be done and fast. One lone man leaves the safety of the homes, venturing out with heavy gales and clashes of waves racking his body to numbness. Ripping the door, slipping so on the steps upward, the light had to be on.
It had to be, darkness could not win this year. Glass from the sounding windows broken from the winds, rotator rushed from the rain fall, light work damage over the short time of the weather.
But the man, without much thought, removed his shirt, finding anything else to in need. Finding a quick haste matches, clothes, and a few bottles of bourbon, working with little, on top of the rotator, splashing the clothes and his shirt with bourbon.
Light a matches, tossing onto the stack, running quickly down the stairs, holding slipping would fasten his foot work down. With a smothers of smoke followed, an amber glow warming his back.
The crackling the of the entrance came down, barely grazing his back, as the man kept running until finding a dry place to rest, finally looking back.
The lone lighthouse, cast a blaze. A beacon was given for the fisherman. And though it was faint, different from the man’s beating heart, a bell tolls could be heard. The town was saved, but at a price, that was better than the latter of choices if the deed wasn’t done.
How the Lighthouse Fire of 1790 saved such a small town. But, it was, a town well worth it.
A Lighthouse on fire at night by Joseph Wright of Derby
Painted of around the year 1790
Where it was painted; unknown
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