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Weekly Contest #319
Note: Contains references to death, illness, hunger, and desecration. The point of the headland was a stone blade honed by the wind. It rose out of the Bass Strait, unbroken and absolute. Upon its crown stood the lighthouse.In the mornings the spray climbed to its windows and left a crust of salt. Gulls wheeled east and west, screaming thinly to the wind. Below the cliff, the water broke into a colourless foam against a reef.The lighthouse stood indifferent to it all. Its walls sweated brine in winter and glared pale in summer. To those asho...
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