Sam rubbed his tired eyes and focussed on the blinking light. All was calm but winds from the dark ocean were starting to gain strength and rumbles from the sky spoke of a storm. He looked down at the net lying on deck and his heavy heart sank. Three days and only a few fish to show for it. His skin was grainy from the salty air. He craved a shower and a cold beer. The beacon was getting brighter as the winds pushed his drifting boat towards the land. Sam submitted to defeat and allowed his mind to think of Amy. She would be waiting and tonight, he could do with some comfort.
Here is my Friday Fictioneers. This picture instantly reminded me of a lighthouse. I have never actually been inside one but the spiralling staircase made me think of that. So loosely based on that interpretation I came up with my story. I have been working on my short stories and editing and not really blogged in a while or taken part in this weekly tradition. Better late than never.
If you want to take part, head over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and have a go.