The Depths

Part 1

The piercing cries of the wind beating upon the wood-covered figure of the lighthouse roused the keeper from his deep slumber. He had fallen asleep at the table of his makeshift kitchen, assembled of nothing more than a set of cupboards, a bowl of water, a pantry, and a heavy coal-burning stove. He awoke in a drunken stupor, and upon seeing the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table before him, seized it and took a swig to calm his suddenly erratic nerves. He wondered how the storm hadn't awoken him before now, as he noticed the droplets of water seeping through the cracks in the wooden frame of the building.

The thin, elderly alcoholic stumbled as he attempted to rise from his rickety wooden chair. He shambled over to the bowl of water, took a mug from a cupboard, filled it, and downed it as quickly as he could, in an attempt to drown the constant ache in his head. He tried to stand straight, supporting himself with the cold iron rim of the nearly extinguished stove, and the sound of a swift, staccato crash caused him to lose his balance and fall to his side. He tasted the salty brine on the rain as he peered up at the window, shattered by the intensity of the wind.

He arose as quickly and safely as he could in his intoxicated state, and walked to inspect the window. He was suddenly made aware of the fact that he was not wearing shoes, as a sizable shard of glass embedded itself into the center of his left foot.

"Fuck!" He shouted in his thick northeastern accent as he fell to the floor, hearing the glass crunch beneath the weight of his body. He held his foot in an attempt to see the injury, but could only see a growing streak of blood in the center of his sole. He reached to find the shard, and received a sensation of shearing, white hot pain up his spine upon touching it.

Tears formed in his eyes as he prepared to extract the shard. He slowly, carefully gripped it, took a deep breath, and screamed as the shard tore through his flesh during its escape, incredible amounts of pain jolting throughout his body as he writhed on the wet, dirty wooden floor in agony. He could've sworn that he'd heard someone else screaming along with him.