KREATiV

Rough winds on the sea and the eerie light of a mist covered lighthouse.
The painting had seen its better days, but so had Franklin Miller.
- I bought it for a lark, he said, shame beneath the twinkle in his eyes.
That would do it, she thought, but smiled just the same.
- I used to look at it and wonder what was hiding in that mist, but with the recent deaths, well... He drifted off and she nodded.
- I'll take it off your hands, she said, ignoring the salty tang in the air.
Soon it would burn.