When the light faded he moved his arms away to see what had happened. The familiar noise of crashing waves rang in his ears with the calling of gulls that fought the strong winds off the water. The smell of salt and kelp filled the air. The mist from the waves stuck to his wool robe decorating his robe with glass droplets across his sleeves and collar.

Tucking away his glasses inside his robe, Caldor looked around in a daze. This was not possible. Where he stood couldn’t have been real.

The large wooden ships lined the docks. The sky was a mix of dark green and grey that circled together in the clouds over head. Gulls called, fighting the gusts off the water while others bobbed like buoys. Barrels were piled high along the ward, as huts made of drift wood and tarps lined the roadway.

“Fish Bank…” Caldor spat. Everything was as he remembered it. Everything was identical to how it was the last time he had been standing on the docks.

“Boy!” the growling howl sent a current through his back freezing his feet to the wave soaked boards.

Peering back over his shoulder, he felt like that child again standing on the docks that night which changed his life. The man’s wrinkled round face with his yellow stained beard, the vomit on his plaid vest, and tattered hole in the right leg of his brown cotton pants. His thread like hair stiff with salt water hid the red rims of his squinty eyes.

“Father,” Caldor snarled, “why are you here?”

Caldor faced the man, regaining himself as he dusted the droplets that moistened his palms. This obviously wasn’t real. The man that stood before him had been dead for over forty years.

“I’m here fer yah ta repent,” his father’s voice was mostly slurred as he clutched to the brown glass bottle by his side. He lifted the bottle, gesturing towards the ocean where the waves rocked the large ships. “Repent fer wat yah did!”