Love Knows No Bounds (Part 2 - Conclusion) | 3 December 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2575 | Prompt: wander into danger

Part 1

14-year-old Haime read his book as he was startled by a dull thud against the window pane. The pelting rain followed; then howling wind whistled through the cracks alerting of a storm. Shadowy figures lunged behind the thin curtains.

All this before nightfall.

If the winds grew stronger, the worn shutters would give away, Haime worried. His mother, Mrs. Herrington, rushed past Haime toward window, but not before ordering him to stay put since he'd not fully healed.*

"Oh, Ma!" Haime slammed his book shut. Exasperated. he retorted, "How am I ever going to test my strength sitting in this restraining device all day?"

She issued a stern warning. "You know full well the doctor ordered another three weeks. You've missed enough in-class schooling. Best you sit tight and recuperate. The sooner you heal, the sooner you'll lose that foul attitude."

He'd lived next to the lighthouse his entire life being the son of a lighthouse keeper. The business provided incentives as a tour guide, especially when girls visited. Haime stifled a laugh, instead forcing a frown, then remembered. He hadn't seen his father since daylight; nor Buckley, their large, fiery-coated shepherd. A distant bark interrupted his thoughts.

"Mom, where's dad? His shift ended hours ago; and Buckley? That storm won't delay another hour. Buckley knows better than to wander into danger!" he blurted.

Mrs. Herrington brushed past him and increased the volume where both grew silent listening to the forecast. She turned and watched as Haime gripped the armrests. Fortunately, his leg brace prevented the impetuous thought.

In the distance, a faint bark echoed, then grew louder. "It's Buckley," she shouted. Perhaps your Dad is with him. She pulled back the curtain. Rain now poured.*

"We'll have to go find him," Haime yelled behind her. She didn't notice he'd already wheeled himself toward the stove, removed the stew, then placed it on the table.

By the time she donned her rain gear and boots, Haime had wheeled past her and landed on the front porch. With his binoculars, he searched the path leading to the bay.

He gasped as the lens zoomed in on its target.

Now, Part 2:

Toward the far south, a hooded figure in a yellow-striped safety jacket stood atop the gigantic rock that had broken away from the shoreline. Whipping the jacket, the wind pierced through. That one strong gust almost toppled the man from the rock.

Arms flailing, the man eventually slipped, and Haime couldn't see the top of his body.

Crying, Haime pointed. "Can you see? It's dad. He's fallen. At that moment, questions faded as to why he would be standing there in the midst of danger.

Suddenly, Haime heard a loud echo. It was his father's call to Buckley. He froze. The thought of his father and Buckley perishing in the storm was unbearable.

From his father's training, Haime quickly recovered and yelled for his mother to hurry. The beam from the lighthouse hadn't activated, so they both stood on the front porch peering into the fading daylight.

"Stay put. I'll go see!" she ordered again in a shaky voice that trailed off.

Numb, he sat watching her run in the direction behind the lighthouse barrier fence. He couldn't see the path, but knew well its course that led to the cliff.

He couldn't give up. His pulse beat as fast as his hands weakened from holding the binoculars as he searched from one end of the lighthouse to the other overlooking the water.

He didn't even feel the binoculars land on his lap as he freed his hands.

Maneuvering the wheelchair off the porch ramp, he landed on the paved walkway visitors used to travel to the lighthouse. The rocky path slowed his progress to the edge where the pier began.

Finally, he grabbed hold of the chain-linked fence.

Unable to see above the fencing used to protect the tourists from accidents, he peered over. The blinding rain chilled his face and body. Stiff from gripping the fence, he didn't realize he'd stood up.

He couldn't see his mother as she ran toward the large rock. All he could see was intermittent thunder and hear indecipherable words as his mother screamed.

An umbrella would only be a hindrance. Mrs. Herrington squeezed the rope that her husband had installed to guide them down the path tightly with one hand while shielding her face with the other.

Armed with only her desire to locate her husband and pet before the storm descended, she stepped gingerly but quickly avoiding the sharp, jutting rocks. Within moments, she reached the pier.

Haime's hands trembled as the binoculars brought the pier into focus. One moment she was visible, then disappeared between the rocks. And no sound could be heard from Buckley.

Instantly, he threw down the binoculars, loosened the leg restraint, rolled back the wheelchair, and ran down the same path that took his mother toward the pier.

As he arrived at the large rock, so did the storm.

The waves crashed relentlessly against the pier and large boulder that sat detached from the main island. He peered into the dark. Behind him the lighthouse beam finally flashed, then settled into a steady and guiding force as it canvassed the tumultuous waters.

Instantly, Haime spotted his father's yellow jacket lodged between the large rock. Trembling, he carefully navigated his way down with the help of the beam.

A twinge in his knee and ankle caught him by surprise. He grabbed his leg and continued down the slippery rock refusing to give a voice to his injury.

At that moment, he heard his father clearly. "Don't come, son. You'll get stuck with us!"

Not knowing if his father meant his mother or Buckley, he yelled as a lump rose in his throat," is mom with you?"

Several seconds passed. "Yes, she's here, but can't dislodge my foot."

Haime refused to obey. He inched closer to the opening in the rock. There he could see two bodies below clinging to each other. He turned toward the pier, remembering a rope at its edge that anchored incoming vessels.

A few moments later, he returned and lowered the rope down. The gap between the rock wasn't steep, just slippery from the algae. With a bit of luck, his father could help hoist his mother up with the rope.

The only thing was that, with his leg hurt, he wasn't strong enough to withstand the intense pressure once he dug his feet into the sand to position himself.

He'd no choice but to let go. He dropped to the ground and knelt over the edge looking down between the rock.

"Dad, My leg. I'm not strong enough," he cried out.

"That's fine. Nothing you can do for us. Go get help." His attempt to reassure Haime failed. His son didn't want to leave them.

He stared down at them for a long moment and knew he had to seek help. As soon as he'd decided, a faint bark behind him grew louder.

It was Buckley. Haime rose swiftly and waved frantically. In between the barking, voices yelled out his father's name.

Rescuers had arrived.

Haime plopped down upon wet sand, his head between his hands watching as the rescuers pulled his parents from between the rock.

He heaved a sigh of relief, jumped up, and ran to them. All three fell to the ground as Buckley barked several times, then licked furiously, first Haime, then his parents.

Neighbors replenished the fireplace. Once they helped the family settle in, they left, leaving the doctor to check not only Haime's leg, but his father's. Swollen from the bruises and cuts, he would now share his son's wheelchair. He'd be on pain medications and antibiotics for a week. Fortunately, he suffered no broken bones. And his wife fared better then he.

Drenched earlier, Mr. Herrington sat in front of the fireplace attempting to stave off a cold. Snuggling deep inside the blanket, he looked lovingly at his wife, Haime, and Buckley.

Although the wise course of action for them both would have been to ring the bell for the emergency volunteers to respond, at that moment we was grateful they all survived.

He just couldn't scold the three family members who risked their own lives coming to his aid.

A risk he took each day as a manufacturing worker, volunteer community firefighter, and part-time keeper of the lighthouse. Not to mention rendering aid to those caught in the storm as he was doing that evening after returning from his shift at work.

He gazed into the fire, gave thanks, then swallowed a large gup of warm tea followed by a spoonful of stew.

For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the @daily.prompt's publishing of 3 December 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2575: wander into danger.