A mile out from shore, the ocean was a vast, undulating, lead-gray blanket. But as the currents approached the beach that held them in check by the decree of God, the waves became gentle, but persistent swirls of iridescent silver. As they washed against the land, their substance danced high into the air as if a huge bottle of champagne had been poured out into a giant punch bowl.

The dramatic change in the water’s color resulted from the fact that a lighthouse stood atop a modest knoll whose base stretched across the beach almost to the very edge of the water at high tide. The arm of light rushed out to meet the darkness, which was made more intense because of heavy clouds that almost rested on the surface of the water a couple miles out and covered most of the sky over the coast.

So the only radiance came from the beam that swept its ruling arc across its vast domain every fifteen seconds. But the beacon was so intense that it forced, not only the ocean, but even those heavy clouds to reflect its light into the atmosphere. It was in the brilliance of that light that the caps of the waves became like silver lace, and the hundreds of water droplets like sparkling diamonds ….

In response to the Daily Post Prompt, Undulate, I’m posting the opening setting of my inspirational novel RACING TOWARD THE LIGHT.      
(Available in digital or paperback)

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