The light house of 'Fish Fluke Point'

Hannah sat on the window sill of the lighthouse.  Tall pines of the national park stood behind it, dripping with water from the drizzle that was falling. In front of her a calm, rippling sea was spread out like a table cloth. Hannah pulled her anorak over her knees and tucked some loose hairs into her hood, and wrote in her book.

Imagine a place where cliffs and forests met, a place just like in those fairy tales, a place where the sound of raindrops is liked: this is the story of that place.

It sounded like a good start.