Out of the Coldness (This Flash Fiction piece placed in the top 3% of winners in the First Campaigner Challenge.)
The door swung open. Bitter wind fluttered the papers on my desk while it filled the room with the stench of saltwater and death. It swirled around the wick of my oil lamp and assaulted the flickering flame.
Dread grazed my spine as the room flushed with darkness. The coldness was coming.
Shivering, I quickly slammed the door, needing to shut it out before it could get in. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. I double checked the latch. I always kept it locked, especially up here in the lighthouse.
With each passing circle of the huge bulb above, it showered the room with the much needed protection of light; then just as quickly doused everything in blackness. It was the only warning beacon here on the Cape.
My hands shook while trying to re-light the lantern but the flame refused. It wasn't safe to be left in the dark too long, the coldness would easily find its way in.
Shivering, I opened the door not willing to wait for the safety of the morning sun. But before I could step out I knew that I was already too late. The coldness whirled in and the door swung shut.
©2011 Alynza Smith
Dread grazed my spine as the room flushed with darkness. The coldness was coming.
Shivering, I quickly slammed the door, needing to shut it out before it could get in. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. I double checked the latch. I always kept it locked, especially up here in the lighthouse.
With each passing circle of the huge bulb above, it showered the room with the much needed protection of light; then just as quickly doused everything in blackness. It was the only warning beacon here on the Cape.
My hands shook while trying to re-light the lantern but the flame refused. It wasn't safe to be left in the dark too long, the coldness would easily find its way in.
Shivering, I opened the door not willing to wait for the safety of the morning sun. But before I could step out I knew that I was already too late. The coldness whirled in and the door swung shut.
©2011 Alynza Smith
