Faerie Fire

The crisp, salty air above the waves felt cool and crisp as she skimmed the water. The ocean spread out before her as far as the eye could see in every direction, save behind. Behind her the shore shrank into the distance. But she did not look back, all the world was before her she shifted her eyes above as she focused her goal to the clouds. The blue waves below her, the sun above, she was in ecstacy. Was there any feeling in the world superior to this? The sunlight dancing on her golden strands and caressing every inch of her skin as she left the sea behind and became lost in the vapors of the sky. Beyond the clouds? The stars. "I wonder if I can touch the stars?" she thought as she stretch her fingers out before her towards the distant expanse if space far above. * * * * * * * Tempest woke to the blaring of her alarm clock. she rolled over and sleepily hit the snooze button. The sunlight was already streaming through her window, patterns of light playing on her comforter. She stretched and slowly sat up, her eyes half-open, still halfway between waking and Sleep. What day was it? Monday? Yes... Monday... a Beautiful, Monday Morning in June. Graduation over, and the expansive, uncertainty of the future looming on the horizon. She swung her feet out of bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. Pulling on her house coat from the back of her desk chair, she tied the sash and strolled leisurely across the room to the sliding glass door. Tempest opened the door and went out into the fresh, ocean air staring out over the crashing waves. Tempest Rain, was 18 years old, fresh out of Highschool, with almost no plan on where to go from here. She was raised by her mother, in a refurbished lighthouse on the coast of a small town called Vanishing Point. The town was full of tall tales that would put the Burmuda Triangle to shame. None of these stories could be verified, and very little ever really happened in that town aside from the traditional small town festivals and art shows. It was a frequent tourist destination for the paranormally inclined and had its own set of ghost tours scheduled on the regular for the consistent stream of tourists. October, of course, being the biggest time of year for that sort of thing. Tempest spotted a trail of guests walking by the lighthouse across the beach on one such tour. The guide pointing here, and there and dramatically emphasizing one point or another of the harbor. Places where one ship or another had entered the Harbor and mysteriously vanished on the night of a full moon, never to be seen or heard from again. Or the classic: ship drifting on the night of the New Moon, Crew gone without a trace. The audible gasps from the travelers at a well told tale could be heard even from her height. Tempest leaned on the railing, watching the tour in silent fascination. The tour guide looked up at her then, and for an instant she could almost feel his heartbeatas their eyes locked. A voice growled in the back of her mind "Mine" and she had an urge to climb over the railing and soar down to him. An odd urge, being that she could not fly, and honestly the notion of doing such a thing to greet a complete stranger seemed a little humorous. But it was there nonetheless and her heart tugged towards him. Despite the distance she could see his face clearly somehow. It was almost like her eyes had zoomed in on his features. His eyes were a cold and icey blue like the sky above a winter sea on a clear frozen day. His Hair was long, dark, and curly. He had a neatly trimmed goatee and Mustache. His features were handsome. He wore chainmail, and period appropriate clothing if, that period were the Viking Age. Even from this height she could tell he was strong and fit. "That lighthouse," He was saying in a Nordic Accent, "It is said used to guide the ships away from the vanishing point, and bring them safely into the harbor. However, on occasion, unearthly fogs would roll in, that even the light of the faeries could not penetrate." His eyes never left hers as he spoke these words, and her heart was filled with longing at his gaze, and a slight fear at his words when he spoke of the fog. Then as soon as it happened it was gone. His gaze turned and her ears no longer picked up the distant words, her eyes no longer clearly saw his face, and the tug in her heart had muted slightly, as if waking from a dream. A knock came to her door. "Tempest, Breakfast is ready!" her mom called through the door. With one last glance, she returned inside and slid the glass door shut behind her.