He reached deep into his pockets, numb fingertips from the cold touching the very end of the fabric. The air around him was dense and still, and the fog covered the dirt like a heavy wool blanket. His feet kept the same pace, though, and further down the path he went with every next breath and heartbeat. 

It was a cold night but that he expected. He knew what time of the year it was, and where he was going; nothing that was surrounding him should come as a surprise. He was prepared and eager – follow the path, they said. It was tried and true. From far away, he could perfectly see the beam of light coming from the lighthouse, though its shape remained hidden by the heavy fog. If he could just follow the light, then he would be safe and sound. 

One step after the other, he slowly felt the slope of the terrain increase, going up further and further every time. The light was brighter and closer than ever, and his tired feet could already feel the relief from reaching his target. He got nearer and nearer, ready to find a door or some sort of entrance; but before he could reach it, his feet slipped. And that’s when he realized, there in the blinding light, that he had been following the lighthouse from the wrong angle – it led him to the cliff, not toward safety. Lighthouses are supposed to mean safety, but they can also be misleading if you’re not already out at sea. 
What lighthouses are you following?

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