The Fog Horn

“The Fog Horn” by Ray Bradbury

I am alone. I came to that noise because, despite the obvious answer, I thought maybe I did not have to be alone. November was the month that my son was born so I believed that if any day that someone would come to me, it might be that one. The journey was a long one. It made me think about why I was doing this and was this right?

As I was swimming through the water, I often thought about the chance of this being wrong, and if I should turn back or not. Most of those thoughts faded away as I got closer to half way there. Every time I hear the horn I have to keep myself from responding, because it might just ruin me. When I had reached the surface, I felt that I must have been right this time and that this time I would be free of all this regret and sadness.

When I finally reached the tower, I knew that I was never going to be saved and that it was all my fault what had happened all those years ago. This regret soon to to anger, and when the horn stopped, my only light in life was gone, and I was done. I attacked the tower in a fit a rage even when the horn went back on. This only made things worse, and I cried and cried until I had to leave the bay on last time. I will not tempt my soul again by going there; I will stay where I belong, in the valley of my family's bones.