Lighthouse Drift Park Apr 2026

He pulled into the turnaround at the base of the tower. The lighthouse was peeling and grey, but in the moonlight, it looked like bone. He stepped out of the car, his legs shaking.

There were no other drivers there. No radios. Just the wind whistling through the lantern room and the rhythmic thump-hiss of the waves. He realized then why they called it Drift Park. It wasn't just about the cars. It was a place where time itself seemed to slide sideways, leaving you suspended between the land and the deep, dark sea. Lighthouse Drift Park

Elias didn't answer. He just gripped the steering wheel, his palms damp against the worn suede. He kicked the clutch, slotted the gear into first, and let the revs climb until the car screamed. He pulled into the turnaround at the base of the tower