#descentintomadness

Day 1 The sea is restless tonight. Waves crash against the rocks below, and the wind howls through the lighthouse, rattling the windows. There’s a fog rolling in, thick and suffocating. I can barely see past the edge of the cliff, and yet… there it is again. A light. Flickering, out on the horizon.

It’s faint, but unmistakable. A ship, perhaps, though no vessel should be this far north in this weather. I’ve sent out the usual signal—no response. Odd. But perhaps they’re just out of range. I’ll keep watch through the night.

Day 3 The light returned again last night. I’m beginning to doubt my senses. It moves, not like a ship, but with a strange, deliberate rhythm. It disappears beneath the waves, only to reappear moments later, closer. I watched it for hours, mesmerized, trying to understand what I was seeing.

I reported the sighting to the mainland, but the response was dismissive. “No known ships in the area,” they said. “Possibly a trick of the light.” A trick of the light. Am I imagining it?

Tonight, I will keep detailed notes on its movements. Something is out there. I can feel it.

Day 5 I’ve barely slept. The light comes each night, always at the same time, always in the same place. Tonight, it was closer than before—too close. The rhythm has become more erratic, almost like it’s… signaling.

I know how this sounds, but I swear the light is alive. It’s watching me. Waiting.

I’ve started hearing things, too. Strange sounds beneath the crash of the waves. A low hum, like a voice just out of earshot, whispering through the fog. I’m not sure what it’s saying, but it fills me with a dread I can’t shake.

I tried to ignore it, to focus on my duties, but my mind keeps drifting back to the sea, to the light. I feel as though something is calling me. I must stay vigilant. I mustn’t let it draw me in.

Day 7 I saw it clearly tonight. Not a ship. Not a flare. Something else. Something unnatural.

It rose from the depths, a glowing orb, hovering just above the water’s surface. The light it emitted wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen—pale and cold, with an otherworldly sheen. It pulsed slowly, in time with my heartbeat, or so it seemed. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to look away.

Then, I heard the sound again. Louder this time. A voice, no longer a whisper. It spoke my name.

I ran inside, bolted the door, and shut all the windows, but I could still feel it. Watching. Waiting.

Day 9 I dreamt of the sea last night. Dark and endless, stretching out in every direction. The light was there, beneath the surface, pulling me down. I woke gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

I can’t shake the feeling that the light is getting closer each night. There’s a madness creeping into my mind, twisting my thoughts, making me doubt what’s real and what isn’t. I’ve tried to contact the mainland again, but the radio is dead. The storm last night must’ve damaged the lines. I am utterly alone out here.

I’ve started keeping the lantern lit at all times, but it does nothing to ease my fear. The light outside grows stronger. It’s as if it’s challenging me.

Day 11 It spoke again tonight. Louder this time. Clearer. Not my name, but something else. Words I didn’t understand, but they echoed in my mind long after the sound faded.

I went outside, against my better judgment, to face it. The fog was thick, but the light cut through, illuminating the shore in that same eerie glow. It was waiting for me, just beyond the rocks.

I called out to it—demanded to know what it wanted. No answer. Just that same pulsing light, drawing me in.

It wants me to follow. I know this now.

I’m losing my grip on reality. I can feel it, slipping through my fingers like sand. But I have to know. I have to understand what it is.

Day 13 The light is in my dreams now, constant and unyielding. It’s no longer content to stay on the horizon. Last night, it hovered just outside the lighthouse, bathing the walls in its cold glow.

I couldn’t help myself. I went outside again, to the edge of the cliff. The waves crashed below, and there, in the water, it waited. But it wasn’t alone this time. Shapes moved beneath the surface—dark, sinuous forms, circling the light like moths to a flame.

I stood there for what felt like hours, watching them. Watching it.

I could hear the voice again, louder than ever, and for the first time, I understood. “Come.” That’s what it was saying. “Come.”

Day 14 I’m not sure how much longer I can resist.

The light calls to me, day and night. I hear it even when I’m inside, whispering through the walls, through my thoughts. It promises answers, secrets hidden beneath the waves. I am so close now, I can feel it. The truth, just beyond my reach.

But the cost… I fear what it will demand of me. My mind, my soul, my very being. It would be so easy to give in. So easy to let go.

I must stay strong. I mustn’t follow. But the light, it’s always there, waiting, watching.

Day 15 This will be my final entry.

I’ve made my decision. The light will not be denied, and I no longer have the strength to fight it. I’ve seen what lies beneath the waves, and it is beautiful. Terrible, but beautiful.

There are things in this world, in this universe, that we were never meant to understand. I know this now. But the light has chosen me. It wants me to see.

I will go to it tonight, to the edge of the sea. To the place where the land meets the water, and the sky meets the depths. I will follow the light, wherever it leads.

And when the fog rolls in, when the tide pulls me under, I will finally know the truth.