Chapter Text
Rain pelted down onto the car windshield in freezing grey sheets as the vehicle made its steady way down the quiet, dim-lit streets of the coastal city. Not much could be seen past the headlights aside from the fleeting streaks of light that reflected off the raindrops, but nonetheless, the car managed to carefully roll down the asphalt. Its journey came to a careful halt at the base of a large tower, the driver opening the car door and opening an umbrella to shield herself from the rain before stepping out. In gliding over to grab a duffel bag from the back of the car, the golden top of the umbrella clicked against the vehicle and scratched off a bit of paint, eliciting only a soft sigh from the woman.
The key to the door was another issue all on its own- the woman could barely fish it from the depths of her back pocket while her arms were laden with bags. She succeeded in this endeavor too, however, eventually fitting the golden key into the lock and turning the slightly tarnished knob. After setting her bags down and finding the lightswitch near the door, the woman took a moment to shake off her umbrella on the porch, lock her car using the key fob, and set said umbrella in its little bin next to a long-unused grey one. Hers was so vibrant next to it, with its cheesy little patterns of the stars and the moon. She looked at it for longer than she wanted to, and after bringing herself back into the world, she took her bags back to the old bedroom one at a time, too tired to carry them all in one trip again.
The air in the small bedroom was dusty and stale, and smelled faintly of old cologne. As soon as she tossed her bags down by the dresser, she slid apart the transparent white blinds and opened the window, thankful that the rain came from the opposite direction of the opening, and that the glass was mostly dry. The smell of cologne was quickly exchanged for the familiar aroma of sea salt, the pattering of rain still mostly muted on the roof of the house. The woman sat down to take her shoes off, and upon disturbing the dusty, stale sheets, an envelope fell from the pillow to the floor with a soft flutter. It took her but a moment to toss her shoes to the side and pick it up, already feeling the ache in her heart grow when she saw whose handwriting it was on the front, her name in imperfectly scrawled cursive. Her fingers trembled as she tore it open, already feeling the sting of rising tears before her gaze even flickered over the paper. She cupped a hand over her mouth as she read in an effort to keep quiet, even if no one was around to hear.
Hey sweetheart,
I know I won’t be around when you read this letter, but I wanted to write it anyway. I’m not spectacular at sappy stuff, but you know that, I guess. I just wanted to tell you one thing, since I don’t have a lot of ink left in this pen to write everything I want to say with.
I want you to know that I’m really grateful for you driving all the way back up here to take keep up the lighthouse. I know it’s all electronic, but still. I do want you to know, though, that if you do anything out here other than dust everything off and go through my old books, I want it to be something that makes you happy.
Yeah.
Don’t forget about happiness while you’re here, sweetheart.
I love you,
Dad
The dams had broken and were silently spilling their contents onto the woman’s soft cheeks, her breathing quietly hitching. She set the letter down beside her, moving her hand up from her lips to her hair, tangling it in her black curls. Taking a deep breath, she wiped off her cheeks, finger-combing her hair a bit more to calm herself down. She cursed a little under her breath, manifesting a humored smile. My father always was such a wizard with even the simplest of words, she thought with a sigh.
It wasn’t until after she had put the letter away in the drawer of the bedside table that it clicked in her mind; she needed to actually check up on the lighthouse. She hauled herself up out of her seat and headed to the back of the house, opening an old door. From beyond it, she was met with even more stale air, and a staircase barely visible. She flipped the lightswitch that activated a series of flickering lights that went up the spiraling corridor, not hesitant in her gait; what was the worst she would meet in an empty hallway, a spider? That was nothing to fear.
She reached the top and quickly checked everything up top before standing out at the railing, looking over the sea, the steady waters crashing against the cliffs beneath her. The moon hung heavily over the water, full and round and ready to fall right out of the sky and drown in the sea it pulled toward it so incessantly.
She felt, for a moment, that she might fall into the sea as well, and stepped away from the railing. After a moment more of looking out, she felt shivers creep upon her from the gusts of freezing wind, and glided back down the steps to the bedroom to finally curl up and sleep.
The thick night air when accompanied by rains allowed for many a sea creature to rise from the depths unnoticed. This principle was regularly exhibited by a certain mermaid who, every night, delighted looking up at the strange, heavenly tower of light. She dared even to haul herself up on the rocks at the base of the cliff for a better look, the warm light falling upon her in brief stretches.
This night, however, was different. When her eyes broke the surface of the water, she saw something in the heavens, contrasted against the harsh gold. It didn’t take her long to recognize it as a human figure, black curls blowing in the cold wind, the curves of her silhouette cutting through the light. To the mermaid’s heart, the world seemed to stand still.
Then the figure turned and left, and the rain began falling upon the mermaid’s cheeks, the wind gusting, the waves crashing again.
Never before had she seen such a gorgeous, heavenly being.