A Lighthouse
Turn after turn at an almost unbearably slow rate,the turret turned. A super bright shining light that had shone out into the infinitesimal darkness that constantly enveloped the night sea. Elvis stood nearby, a level below in his ship captain like lookout room. He kept up his constant vigil, coffee mug in hand, with a small drop of whiskey in it of course, and peered out into the blackness of the evening sea. Peaceful tonight, he thought. Later he could be seen securing the grounds around the building itself. Elvis knew though that the current state of calm could quickly change into unpleasant conditions unpleasant indeed. Not that he expected
Lighthouse
anything other than the relative tranquil seas this night but, you never know, he told himself, yes sir, you never know.
For over 125 years now, Bella Terra, which was what Elvis affectionately called “his” lighthouse, stood boldy performing it’s duty and keeping a watchful eye out for the “lost sheep of the sea”. Elvis came up with the name from an old sea captain he met who said that “this shining light had saved his life, his crew and his ship from sure disaster by warning them off that course they were on that would have led them onto the nearby rocky shores”. The captain said the light was his, “Bella Terra”, loosely translated as, “Beautiful land” or “Beautiful Ground”. Elvis thought it was Italian but didn’t know for sure and didn’t ask.
That had been a rough night where as this night he felt sure would be a peaceful and calm night for those he kept vigilant watch over and for himself. This is what Elvis thought, and so it was – this night.
When Synapses Go Bad 