Spring 1887 – She Waits for a Light Far Out to Sea


The specter glided over the uneven stones like a leaf across the surface of a still pond. I followed as quickly as I could but darkness and treacherous rocks slowed my passage. I looked down to be sure I was placing my feet safely and, when I looked up, I could not longer see her. 

I stopped. I heard the breakers far below. I felt a slight chill of a wind blowing south. I smelled the tang and fishiness of the Pacific. A wail of despair tore the air.