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Beskrivelse
It was in the twilight of Christmas Eve, 1867, when Cyrus Fernsby first caught sight of the tapering square towered lighthouse on Wraith Rock from the large rowing boat which was conveying him to, what was intended to be, a short term keeper posting. As it emerged with evermore clarity from within the Atlantic sea mist, and the spray of the crashing waves which embraced it, an inexplicable and undeniable sense of foreboding began to seize and permeate the innermost reaches of his soul.Despite the magnificence of its structure and apodeictic aesthetic beauty, the Wraith Rock Lighthouse exuded an irrefragable melancholic malevolence as it rose in spectral majesty from the turbulent ocean: standing quasi-incandescent beneath a meniscus December moon.Nothing could have prepared him for the revelations and events which were about to unfold
