Life as a freelance journalist is always unpredictable. As Rachel browsed through her emails, the topic line of one email in particular got her attention:
SENSITIVE FILES-CAVES POINT LIGHTHOUSE-12 NOON
Looking at her watch she said, “blast, it’s 2 o’clock!.
Sensing a scoop is in the air, she decided it was worth a drive to check it out.
Arriving at Caves Point, she left her vehicle in the deserted carpark. She made her way along the foreshore road. This road led to the lighthouse on the cliff above.
“Hell, I hate heights”, she whispered to herself as she started the steep, awkward ascent. The sound of waves crashing onto the rocks below muffled her heavy breathing and echoing footsteps.
A chill ran down her spine as she opened the lighthouse door and groped the handrail. The musty smell of mold made her feel nauseous. She looked up at the encircling tower. Then she began to climb the tapered shaped staircase.
She reached the top of the stairway and paused to catch her breath. Then she turned the rusty old door handle to the lighthouse keeper’s chamber. The creaking of the heavy door unnerved her. The pungent sea spray mixed with stale tobacco heightened her senses. The gust of wind made her both fearful and hesitant.
She entered and observed the sparse room. It contained an old broken table, a putrid mug, a small envelope covered in dust, and a spy glass.
Fumbling in her bag for her latex gloves, she quickly put them on and began examining the envelope. Other than an old piece of faded parchment folded neatly in two the envelope was empty.
“Someone is coming”, she whispered to herself as a man appeared at the doorway.
With nowhere to hide, Rachel waited for a moment before making a run for it. As he grabbed her they both slipped on the damp floor. Twisting and kicking she managed to free herself from his grip escaping to the outside observation deck via a clanging door.
He followed her outside. Arming herself with an old chair she swung it in his direction striking his head. Disorientated, he lost his balance and tumbled over the railing.
Snatching the envelope she fled the room. Rachel’s heavy footsteps resounded the walls as she ran down the stairs. Exiting the lighthouse, she gaped at his lifeless body lying on the rocks.
The envelope was safely tucked away in her bag. She found her car keys. She shakily started the engine and drove away.
It was a little after 7 pm when she arrived home. Two men suddenly emerged from a car parked across the road. Guns drawn one man stood guard while the other pointed his gun directly to her head. “I think you have something that belongs to me!” he said.
Thank you for reading my blog.
Elizabeth Munton 