hollis (they/them) currently studying classics and archaeology.

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idea if my “woods hermit” thing doesn’t pan out: I live in an old lighthouse on the New England coast with only my cats to keep my company, not unlike a character in a New England gothic horror story. My entire vibe is HP Lovecraftesque. The lights coming from the windows are mysterious and sporadic, but only because I’m still too nervous to talk to an electrician on the phone. I only enter town to get groceries. On stormy nights the locals will see my silhouette illuminated by the flashes of lightning as I gaze upon the tempestuous seas. Young couples from out of state will knock on my door some nights because their car has broken down and they are lost in the thick fog. I give them directions, as well as cryptic comments and warnings. They leave with the feeling I am not what I seem; and the light house emanates mystery and long forgotten tragedy. They comment on my person when they finally make it into town. “I didn’t know anyone lived in that old old lighthouse” some locals will say “I’ve never seen that person around here before.” The couple continue their journey, uneasy and wondering who they had spoken to on that dark and lonely night.