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The tall grass swayed in the wind, back and forth like a pendulum. He felt a chill run down His spine as He stepped into the misty cold. The lighthouse bellowed in the distance, barely visible behind the thick fog. He stood at the ledge, breathing in salty air. It was fairly calm, hearing the waves crashing against rocks that have been stained green by algae. Low tide meant the lighthouse was accessible now, if He took the trek across the slippery rocks down below.
He headed for the sleek metal bridge that stuck out in contrast to the disheveled setting. Moving on past pines that towered over Him, He followed the subtle path to steep stairs which lead to the first bed of rocks. His teeth chattered as He descended to the ground. He removed His knit-gloves, opting for better control when traveling over the uneven surface. He picked up a serrated pebble from the ground and scratched stone against stone, carving a sharp-angled mark for The Bellowing.
The Bellowing, god of coastal waters, lurks in clouded coves, watching, waiting. Its yells mimic the blasting sound of fog horns, enticing ships into the dark caverns, instead of the safety that the lighthouses provide for them when approaching land. When the beast is wailing in the wind, awaiting no more than a mere sailboat to approach, the beacon’s light flickers until finally shutting off completely, taking away the only safe guide to the rocky coast. These wrecks, these sailors, act as sacrifices — the god will feed.
He stood silently, staring towards the lighthouse. The repetitive sound no longer came from the structure in front of where He stood. A small boat was returning to the shore, unaware of the true danger ahead. The sail whipped around violently in the wind, and the craft was now seemingly being driven by an unseen force.
His face paled from both utter fear and excitement. Anyone else would have thought He’d gone mad by the way His eyes were widened, paralyzed with wonder. The howling only got louder, as He watched the boat disappear into the foggy caves within the cliff sides. Silence.
The light returned, and the foghorn called once again, this time truthfully from the tower that stood with the purpose to protect these vessels from fateful endings. He continued His hike towards the lighthouse.