The Lighthouse

Fiction

I visited Dover castle and the Roman lighthouse over 10 years ago.

stone upon stone upon stone and ancient mortar. a net stretched across the open space where the floor woodenly stood sentinel against the rain’s rotting lash. a dead seagull was caught in the net. its feathers drift down like snow from its bones when the wind dances through. its feathers drift down like ash from its bones when fleet fled the burning harbor.

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