Night turns into day and the fog patches over the lake lessen, and then the sun breaks through, making the whole scene glow golden-orange. The lake looks like a giant mirror, reflecting the trees and the sky and the tiny white-capped waves. The only sound is the buzzing of the mosquitoes and the soft sound of the wind in the trees.
The island is so quiet.
There is no breeze. No sound.
I know it’s there.
I feel it.
I’ve been feeling it for months now, but today I finally see it.
It’s a tiny, craggy island, no more than ten feet in diameter, and only a few feet above the waterline.
It’s almost impossible to see.
My eyes, my brain, my whole body tells me that it’s just an illusion.
But I see it.
And there it is.
I try to picture the island as it was.
I try to remember it from that day when I first saw it.
I remember the warm sun.
I remember the grassy ground.
The trees and the clouds and the wind.
But I can’t remember.
You can change your options. Cookie settingsACCEPT
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.