The ocean waves thrashed against the rocks. The sky was dark, but it was only four in the afternoon. The lighthouse seemed to almost tremble. Almost.
Callum was at the top of the lighthouse, watching for stray ships. A wave hit so hard droplets of water almost touched the lighthouse. Rain pattered on the roof above him. He was filled with sorrow. Connor had died only 3 months ago. He never got to say goodbye.
5 years before, Callum had been brewing beer with his brother at the tip of Scotland's rocky beaches. He had made enough money to support himself for about 3 years, so he became a lighthouse watchman. Callum was paid by the coast guard to watch for ships in need. 103,000 pound sterlings every single year. As he was at the government office, looking for employment, he heard a crackle. It kept on getting louder and louder. He heard someone yell something about a ship. "IN DANGER IN DANGER" they said, "URGENT HELP NEEDED. S.O.S". What was that?
His eyes opened, at the top of his desk. The radio was giving out an S.O.S signal. Callum quickly stood up, and saw something in the fog of the storm. Was that a tip of something? The bottom part was red, the top blue. Some sort of box was on board. A light at the top, seeming to guide it through the waters. As it got a little closer, at a slow but steady pace, Callum noticed something else. A gash, in the side of the massive tanker. Now almost half of the ship was out of the fog. It was clear that it was in a struggle.
Callum grabbed the transmitter on the radio. "Ship spotted, it's heading for Coast Guard island number twenty-three. I'm gonna head out soon to aid the crew. Looks like I'm gonna need a helicopter backup.", he said. The grown man ended with, "Over.", and put down the transmitter. Rushing down the spiral stairs, he grabbed his rainsuit off the wall, some rope and a medkit. As he headed outside, he noticed something else. A body, hanging off the side of the ship. Its feet, limbs, and head were missing. About 8 feet back, someone was eating a piece of meat in a sort of crunched up L shape.
He was at the tip of the rocks on his little island now, waiting. There was a fire in the middle of the boat, with a leg over it. Callum realised the horror of this. By now, the ship was 5 feet away from the cliff. He turned to run, but the boat crashed into the rocks. He fell, his legs trapped in the boat. After about 20 minutes, people starting stepping off.
Callum had been losing blood, and his vision was in black and white. He could only watch as a fire axe plunged deep into both of his arms, legs, and head.
The storm is gone.
All is calm.
God is over all.
The ship, nor Callum, was ever to be found.
