Silas clutched at the mast of his ship (or what remained of his ship). He was shivering, water streaming down his skin and his hair clinging to his face. Curtains of darkness covered the blue sky, enveloping him in night. The constant wind sent tremors through him, swaying his boat, causing more wood to snap off, leaving a trail behind him. The salt water dried his lips and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

When would there be land? When would this end?

Clouds obscured the moon and left Silas without even a trickle of light. Whimpering, Silas maintained a feeble grip on his boat, praying that he wouldn’t fall into the water… again.

Then, abruptly, the clouds parted and a waterfall of light gushed out and shone on him like a spotlight, a nice, warm spotlight…

Where was the light coming from, though?

Squinting, his brow furrowing, Silas peered to the source of the light. When he saw the red and white stripes, his heart leapt from his chest. Could it be?

He dropped to his knees on the boat, desperately scooped at the water in an attempt to paddle it and kept his gaze on the beacon of light in front of him. His boat crashed against the shore and he leapt off, the sand under his feet a massive relief. Land. Finally. Casting his gaze up to the striped tower, Silas grinned. He bowed his head to it. The lighthouse. He would have frozen if it wasn’t for this beautiful beam of hope.

Raising his head, Silas landed his eyes on the land… home sweet home.