Lighthouse by Elisa P. Black He sat alone in the darkness of the stone room, trying desperately to rekindle the fire that had once burned in his sanctuary, the light of his soul and dedication. His passionate chivalry had been a beacon for many innocents, the saving grace that guided both savior and the helpless through the raging storm beyond this pillar. Having lost that grace to damnation and temptation long ago, now he had to fight so hard not to be this cold thing in this colder and lonely room, to again be able to reach out and help those innocent souls going forth blindly in the storm. He must relight the lantern; his duty called, he had ignored it, reveled in the destruction for too long. But how would he rekindle the fire when he had thrown away the tools to do so long ago? Standing from the luxurious red velvet armchair he had reigned in for almost 800 years, he looked out the window fearfully, like he'd done many times before. But unlike those other times, he saw a light growing out of the darkness, and for the first time felt unafraid. Stepping closer to the window that was nothing more than a rough square chiseled in the stone, he gazed at the steadily growing star of light and wished upon it, unmindful of the elements furiously lashing at him. And with his vampiric vision he saw her, a mortal angel in the glowing light, looking forth unafraid, reaching out, her pillar one of strength and compassion. Light brown hair framed an open, honest face, a delicate instrument of warm emotions with large brown eyes of understanding. She could not see him yet through the distance and thick fog, but already she knew him, accepted him in the depths of her soul. Opened her arms in welcome, stood stoutly in the stormy rages with the promise that she would not run, would be by his side to the end. He found that he loved this sweet vision, this dream that dared to love him back. And he was suddenly afraid that she was risking too much for him, that she would die for naught at the hands of his monster, so hard to control. Or that maybe the storm would catch her as she reached closer and closer to him and further out the window. Or that she would come close enough only to find something repulsive to turn her back. He was terrified to lose that glorious beauty, would rather admire from afar than lose it altogether. "Stay back," he whispered without conviction. He wanted her so much... In her mind she heard and then shook her head. She would not be gotten rid of that easily, especially since she, too, was in love. How, he wondered, how could she love him? Was she only fascinated by the darkness as he once had been, drawn by the mystery and unmindful of the danger? What was there to him but that darkness? Surely, he was a curiosity and nothing more. This time his voice was stronger, his motives sure. "Stay back! There is nothing for you here!" Again, she shook her head. Anguished, he began to pace a circuit of the room, once, twice, anything to release the painful energy charging his nerves. He had to stop her, deter her. He had to hold her, have her. A knocking came at the window. It could only be the raging of the storm, nothing more. In a rage he glanced up. She was here. Oh, her smile, like his old light, only much more so. As she glided across the dim room toward him, his heart quickened from the slow death it had stuttered into long ago. And the grayness of their world disappeared to light. The End