Weekly Skylights: The Tripod Looks to the Clouds

Joey Cifelli ’23

April 18, 2023

Waves lap on the cool shores of the lake. You squint into the mist, trying to pierce its dense pattern. It does nothing. The waves are getting higher now. Perhaps you should move your seat. You wouldn’t want to get cold feet at a time like this. You push against your chair, attempting to move it without getting up. This does not work, of course, and the wet sand takes the opportunity to consume your chair. Well, you’re in quite a pickle now, aren’t you? The waves continue to rise. ?.?/??

April 19, 2023

You try to contact the tower again, and for the fourth time receive only static. This mist must be interfering with the signal. Looks like you’ll be on your own this time, again. No matter. This is simply another chance to prove yourself. You guide your vessel with a strong arm and a steely eye. Reckless confidence abounds. And to think they made it sound so hard at the marina. Metallic whips and bangs come from the edge of the hull. They mean nothing to you. You’d like to see something get in your way, see how it fares when you come ramming through. That’d be rich. The noises from the hull cease. A looming form rises from the depths. The mist coils tighter. ?.?/??

April 20, 2023

You manage to climb the ladder to your post. As if it would kill someone to have a few more people on watch. This is your fourth shift in half as many days. Unsurprisingly, you can’t see more than a few feet into the lake. Even your fancy new binoculars are only able to provide a magnified view of the fog. Adjusting the focus, you survey the surrounding village. That guy with the Mercedes is driving off again. All he ever does is disappear into the woods for hours on end. You’re not sure what he schemes about in there, but it’s certainly nothing good. Disgruntled, you turn toward the water just in time to see a glint of metal vanish under the surface. A car wails from the forest. ?.?/??

April 21, 2023

It is a new day. The mist has gone, the skies are clear, and everyone is enjoying the sunshine. You sit on the rickety old wicker chair on your porch, pondering. You’ve been feeling quite confused the last few days, for reasons unknown. Nothing out of the ordinary except for the odd vapor that rolled in the other day. You suppose it doesn’t matter too much, if you can’t even tell what bothered you. With a slight chuckle and shake of the head, you load some fronds into your pipe. Everything is fine, just as it’s always been. 10.0/10