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theviscountjarrow · 3 years

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The Woman at the Light

Word Count: 1397

Written on: 10.29.2020

Based on a true story

The sun beat down upon the hot sand, a light breeze whipping up over the dark cold lake beyond the shore. The trees swayed slightly, a seagull cawed into the afternoon air, soaring high above the lighthouse on a cool draft of air, beating its wings to stay aloft as the tall pines broke the easy current.

A tall stone structure stood upon the sand, stretching high above the shore, sand scratched window panes seeming almost foggy as they loomed over the water. Flecks of paint chipped from old bricks, the white shaving falling to the large boulders set at the bottom of the tower to keep the lake from swallowing it whole.

The sound of hammers driving nails rhythmically punctuated the crash of waves, the faint groan of wood pounded into place by hunched figures before the tower. A line of wooden beams behind them formed the foundation of a boardwalk, leading to the old and crumbling light under which they worked. Another board placed down, covering blades of waxy green beachgrass, the plant bending beneath the wooden grain to live the rest of its life in the shadows, spying only a crevice of sun to which it would eventually reach for. But for now, it’s plight was drowned by the sound of hammers, the small spires of metal slamming the boards in place, securing them to each other, extending the walk another few inches.

One of the two men straightened, shifting his weight so he sat back on his heels as he knelt at the end of the boardwalk. His blue eyes squinted as he cast a glance to the sky, trying not to look directly at the sun while he gauged its height in the sky. His hand, browned with grime and dirt, raised to his forehead, wiping beads of sweat from his brow as he dropped his head to look at the other man with him. “Supper soon?” He asked, his voice nearly a whisper to his ears though it came out as a shout.

The other man sat back on the boards as well, running his hand through his grey peppered hair, pushing back the stray strands from his damped forehead. He only grunted, nodding in response, the dryness of his throat forcing out only a hoarse word as he reached for the bucket of supplies they had sitting in the sand nearby. “Water?”

The first man nodded as well, shifting to reach over, calloused fingers grasping the warm plastic bottle, tossing it at his coworker as he grabbed his own. Untwisting the caps, the two men tipped their heads back again, eyes screwed shut against the glaring sun as they drank deep, slaking their thirst in the afternoon heat.

The second man gasped as he pulled the bottle from his mouth, sucking in the warm air of the beach before tightening the cap on his bottle again. Tossing it in the direction of their bucket, he grunted, bending back over to begin his hammering again as the first man checked his watch.

“Another hour, then I should go. Nellie said she was cooking steaks tonight.” He told the other man as he twisted at the waist, reaching to grab another board from the pile nearby.

“How’s Nellie doing?” He asked, watching the older man stretch toward the two by fours, settling back to sit up again.

“Doing good. Doctors said things are looking good.” He said, hands wrapping around the splintered siding of the wood, pulling it back toward himself. “How’s your wife?”

“She’s back with the kids at home.” The second man moved to his knees, stretching out to help the older one grab the board. “Probably complaining about me being up here all the time.”

The board glided over the sand, creating a little wave of warm tanned grains tumbling over themselves as they were pushed toward the men. Lifted, the board was placed carefully, the older gentleman holding it steady as the other pinched a nail, holding it steady as he raised the hammer into the air, bringing it back down quickly and striking the head, driving it deep into the wood. Another wave crashed along the rocks as he drove the nail deeper, slamming the hammer into the board over and over until the nail head was buried in the grain.

He twisted, moving to grab another nail when something moved in the corner of his eye. A bark rang out through the air, close enough to be heard over the white noise of the waves. He turned his head, blinking quickly behind his glasses as his eyes focused on two figures out upon the sand. One was a dog, with long shaggy fur, barking as it trotted beside a young woman. She walked slowly, her eyes focused on the lake as she strolled beside her pup, her clothes almost as bright as the sun above her with pops of neon green and pink floral on her bell bottom pants that clashed with the deep hued stripes of her tie-dye tank top.

“Don.” He flung out his arm, hand flapping in front of the older man's face as his eyes stayed fixed on the woman and her dog. “Don, take a look at this.”

Don grunted and groaned as he pushed himself up from the sand, standing straight up and leaning back with his hands on his hips. With the cracks of his spine, he sighed in relief as he looked out over the beach, spotting the woman and her dog as they stepped closer to them and the light. His brow furrowed, eyes darting to the empty gravel parking lot. As his gaze moved back to the woman, he watched with his friend as her and the dog suddenly seemed to vanish, dissipating into thin air as if they had never been there at all.

“What the-?” The other man said, nearly jumping to his feet. He scowled, and took off without a word, leaving Don to scramble behind him as they both rushed down the small dune to the shore. Don huffed and puffed as he was left behind, his long legged coworker reaching the spot before him.

“Rick! Rick! Do yah see anything?” Don asked between breaths as he closed the distance between the two of them, wet sand kicking up behind him as he slowed from his run.

Don stepped up beside Rick, both men staring down at the sand. There, in the damp left from high tide, not yet swept away, not yet dry, were two sets of tracks. Bare feet beside paw prints, toes dug into the sand to bring them closer, until suddenly, they stopped, the trail ending a few feet away from where the men stood gawking.

“What..do you think that was?” Rick asked slowly, his amber eyes still focused on the prints left in the sand.

“I don’t know…” Don sighed, hand lifting to scratch the back of his head. “Did yah see what she was wearing? Haven’t seen clothes like that for about thirty years…”

“Think she was…” Rick’s voice trailed off, the words stuck in his throat as his eyes moved to the shorter man beside him.

“I dunno.” Don’s frown settled in as he continued to scratch at a spot on the back of his scalp, a slightly raised freckle on the edge of his receding hairline. “But parking lot’s empty, and we’re the only ones for miles…”

The two men stood there, the waves lapping near them, hot sun beating down, even the wind seemed to have ceased as they contemplated what they had just seen.

Rick was the first to move, pushing out of his stance to follow the tracks back the way they came, moving only thirty feet before he stopped, his head swinging from side to side as he tried in vain to find any trace of the woman and her dog before that spot.

“Come on Rick!” Don shouted, lowering his hand as he spun on his heels. “We got more work to do!”

Rick hesitated, taking one last glance around the beach before a sigh built up in his chest. Slowly breathing out, the cool breeze blew upon his face then, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the lake herself before turning to follow Don back to their work.

#ghost story #ira jarrow #the viscount jarrow #story #short prose #the woman at the light #short story

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