I got a bad feeling the minute we drove onto the property. A shiver up my spine and a cold feeling as I stood on the dunes. As if something had happened here and someone hadn't left. I made no mention of it to anyone, but I couldn't shake off the nagging suspicion that something wasn't quite right. Our third day here, I saw someone up on the bluff. But as I turned away to call my mother, they vanished. Every day, I saw him, but as soon as I turned away, he disappeared.
One time, I didn't turn around for a full minute and took in his appearance. His clothes were ragged and weather-beaten, but looked as if they could've once been regal. Long, uncombed hair hid his face as the wind scratched it's long gangly fingers through the black mess. He met my eyes and my heart paused. My father always said that the eyes are a window into the soul and I had always believed him, but at that moment, I believed it more then ever. Cold, grey eyes stared into my coffee-brown ones. Sure, his eyes were hard, but the shell had clearly been up for years and had begun to fall apart. Pain and sadness were reflected in his eyes and I felt tears creeping into mine. I blinked them away, hoping not to blur the image, but by the time I opened them again, the man was gone. I raised a hand in farewell, hoping that one day, the strange man would find the peace he was clearly looking for.