[And old man lay in a hammock, listening to the sound of the surf crashing against the jagged black rocks below the cliff on which he lived. This man's name was Gregory Bayliff, an old sailor who now ran the light house on Buff Point. His skin stretched tightly across his high, pointy cheekbones and his scraggly beard was filled with salt. On that bright, sunny afternoon he was feeling particularly irritable and in moods like that he always retired to the hammock behind his house.
"I am not old.! he said to himself.
"Yes you are." he heard his mind reply, "You have been old for a very long time, and there is no doubt that you will get older."
"Age has nothing to do with it. I am as fit as I ever was."
"If that;s true then you're own sister would know it, right?"
"Then why did she beg you to go to Palm Creek?"
"Don't mention the name of that silly retirement home." he growled, still fighting with himself.
"Whatever you say. But answer me this. If you're as 'fit as you ever were', why is Charlotte coming up here for a week to look after you?"
"I must stop talking to myself!" Exasperated, the sailor pulled himself out of the hammock and walked to the edge of the cliff where he could look out over the bay.]
That's all I'm giving you for now, sorry!I hope you like it, tell me what you think!