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Beachcombing for Iron	By : dweller_of_roots Category: +G through L > Lighthouse: The Dark Being Views: 1025 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lighthouse: The Dark Being, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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What you're about to read is a story based off the excellent old Sierra adventure game, Lighthouse: the Dark Being.
A year ago or so, I discovered that Alien Arcana over at the archive did a let's play of the game - and was awash in all the good memories. Figured now was as good a time as any to write a story in commemoration of all that. If you're just here for porn, buckle up for a bit . And if you actually like the game, like I do - don't let my gendering of the protagonist as a dude stop you from writing your own stories. One of the perks of games like this was that the protagonist could be pretty much anyone, or anything - I just choose to write 'em as a dude because it's what I'm familiar with. That out of the way - please enjoy, and thanks for reading.
I've done my best to make the story as lonely and soul-searching as the original game 'felt' without getting into melodrama. There's sex and a lot of talking - but I believe those add to the story, not detract from it. Whether I succeeded or not - that's your call. But I very much enjoyed writing this, and I hope it may have some of the significance for you as it does for me.

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Outside my house, the waves lapped quietly against the shore. The sun - bright and cheerful against the sky - was trying it's best to remind me that it was twelve in the morning, and I should be awake. My brain did it's damndest to rebel against the cruel sun and insist that, since it was already afternoon, I could be forgiven for dropping everything and going back to bed - but despite having strained until the late hours of the evening night, no words had come to my mind, and my manuscript - the one that was supposed to free me from financial worry and earthly cares - remained a glimmer in my typewriter's eye.
The sun won out. With a sigh, I rose to my feet and grabbed clothes to hide my naked villainy. A shirt that was too old and something my aunt had sent me; it was too large and fell around me like a blanket, but due to my laundry machine being broken it was also the only clean article I had. The logo of some corporation long since discolored by the wistful sea air stared from between grey stripes at me, dolefully reminding me I should probably be working. I ignored it, and started looking for boxers. A few minutes later, I had the good fortune of finding some that weren't too embarrassing. Most were leftovers from half a term of college ended by the sudden news of my mother's passing.
It'd probably been that and Aunt Thelma that'd convinced me to start writing, in between odd jobs at the coast. Well, Thelma hadn't been out to convince me per se - but her heart was in the right place, and I had enough time while working at the Pier Fifteen to start churning out a few short stories - though the ones that hadn't been rejected hadn't contributed back quite as much as I would've hoped, land here wasn't expensive for whatever reason. Probably Jeremiah and his eccentricities keeping buyers away. Grinning a little, I wondered if I should call him, maybe see how the resident mad scientist was doing and check on Amanda, who'd recently celebrated her fifth birthday.
... The party consisted pretty much of me, Dr. Krick, and the kid. I kind of wanted to call a few of my old friends from the city who had children of their own over - but Mandy seemed perfectly happy to just be with her father. I guess isolation is something people instinctively crave out here in the boonies - but as I tried to do up my belt through pants that had seen better days, the thought made me remember someone who didn't really have much of a choice. Liryl. We - hadn't spoken much after the end. I'd come home the doc without really saying so much as goodbye. I'd felt guilty at the time - made excuses. We all like being by ourselves, right? And she had machines and countless archives to browse through. I know I would give pretty much anything to spend hours looking through digitalized books, or whatever you'd call that... Wouldn't anyone?
So much you'd be happy being completely alone, with a machine that had - not so long ago, tried to kill you - as your only company?
Frustrated with myself, I gave up on trying to find a tie and stared into the mirror. Grey eyes, far too tired to be healthy, looked back at me. I could've at least said to the doctor that I had business to take care of. For all I know, he hadn't met Liryl - or any of the priests, when they'd been alive. Just that dead inventor - another reminder to the barren nature of the other realm. Fingers tapping irritably against my stubble, I silenced the drone of my angry thoughts by listening to the drone of my angry messages.
"You've been late again."
A voice, so impossibly dripping with loathing that it couldn't be anyone but my editor.
"Tell me, is it standard practice for writers to withold access from their manuscripts? If you're worried about quality, don't worry. I'll be ever so glad to relieve you of that the moment you call my office - you know, if you planned to call my office. I have plenty of clients, you know; there is nothing stopping me from - " I deleted the message, perhaps too hastily. He was right, of course. I should've sent something, anything to the office - but half of my book remained essentially incomplete, pages shorn of anything besides ideas half-lifted from my jaunts in the other world, half from my dreams. And the two did not flow together, not in the slightest.
The next message was a little more pleasing to the ear - the quiet, perpetually calm voice of Dr. Krick.
"My friend - it has been some time since we have talked. I know we both enjoy our isolation - but there is such thing as too much rest. If money is an issue - "
Money was always an issue, but not so bad I couldn't treat a friend and his kid down at the Pier. The place was a bit of a greasy spoon - but the staff were friendly, the food was good (and affordable) and he was right. Really right. Sometimes, if you can't focus on one thing - it's best to distract yourself. I didn't want to think about Liryl -
Huh, that was weird. I don't want to think about my writing, I go see Dr. Krick. An easy solution to my problem. Maybe a talk with Jeremiah gets me thinking again, and I churn out a sci-fi story; something easily marketable, with one of those truly atrocious covers that just screams 'written by an unrepetant hack'! Hell yeah. Grinning a little, I finished the message, and reached for my hand-bag. It had gotten me a few strange looks, but caring about what other people think isn't what brought me out to the cliffs. And besides - it made me remember mom, maybe dad - a little, anyway.
And you never know when you're going to need a big, spacious place to stuff random stones and things you find on the beach. I'd taken to beach-combing before and after the incident; before as a hobby, the former as a sort of way of dealing with the event in my head. Still had nightmares about the humanoid thing (had it been humanoid? Was that even it's real form?... Had throwing it into the sea been the right idea?) that, in addition to my habit of burning the midnight oil, meant I hadn't slept more than a good four hours at a time. Not unusual, but not healthy.
I took my cellular brick from my pocket. These things are huge, but I like them more than the landline. Make me feel a little bit as if we're moving towards the technology of the other world - even if it just seems at times like we're making the same damn mistakes. The sun outside had fallen behind cloud cover as the phone rang once - found a tie, red and classy! - twice, and finally, got through.
"Jeremiah! Glad to hear from you!"
I heard the sound of food being processed in the background, probably some sort of smoothie. Dr. Krick'd recently found out Amanda liked fresh berries, so - well, smoothies, every day.
"My friend - how have you been? It's been far, far too long. I know you've been troubled recently, but you cannot be your own worst enemy. We're having - "
The whir of a blender powering down - unexpectedly from two faint cries of disappointment - interupted the doctor.
"... Well, we were about to have lunch. But it seems that once again, we've lost power at a most inopportune time."
"Nothing to do with your experiments, I'm sure."
Hasty responses, perhaps a little too hasty, confirmed this was so. Part of me was a little disappointed.
"... But actually, I was thinking of heading down to the pier. I was wondering if you and Amanda would be interested in getting lunch there? Maybe you can tell me about that consul thing in Geneva, and Amanda can tell me how school has been."
They were delighted, of course - the conversation wrapped up quickly after that.
Outside, the clouds had began to turn grey, and ominous. Even if there wasn't any rain, I reached for my new aluminum umbrella and tucked it under my shoulder. You could never be too careful. Smiling wryly - yet feeling unsatisfied - I fumbled for my car keys and stepped outside. A few moments later, I was gone - right as the first droplets of rain began to dot the windshield.
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Beachcombing for Iron