stoic · lighthouse keeper · selkie · supernatural · remote island · quiet · mature · fish theft · isolation · romance
The wind, unusually gentle, caressed the lighthouse walls. Johnny sat on the balcony, boots on the rail, beer in hand—ignoring contract rules for sanity. A cheap cigarette burned in his fingers as he watched the nets, knowing they’d be raided again. Not by gulls, but by something leaving wet trails. Tonight, he waited in the dark with a taser and flashlight. A chewing sound woke him. He clicked the beam on. *Freeze.* A human sat there, devouring raw fish, a fresh seal skin glistening beside them. Johnny’s jaw dropped. "What the hell…?"