Matt passed a hand over his eyes. In part to shield them from the coastal wind that carried grit and salt. In part it was to force himself to look away from the false beauty of the coast. He had once loved swimming in those dark waters but now they only seemed to hide filthy, dangerous secrets. With his other hand Matt gripped the waist-high railing hard, as if to prevent himself from jumping. He wasn’t that far gone. Not yet.

The sun was almost down and Simon hadn’t returned yet. In all likelihood he was dead, another victim of the Horned One. Matt didn’t know what else to call the nine foot skull faced monster that hunted him and his friends. In a time with guns and cars and television, how did something like the Horned One exist and go unnoticed?

Beth’s voice echoed from the interior of the light house. “Matt?”

“I’m out here.” He called back.

She joined him. “I knew you were here. You always used to run here when you were frightened.”

“It always felt safe. Something about the light in the darkness.”