Isle of mourning

Isle of mourning

‘Welcome on this beautiful day. We hope you have a pleasant journey with us. Thank you for..’

The Intercom of the ferry is pushed to the background of my mind. I feel a cold metal object in my right hand. My eyes wander to the object. It is a brown old suitcase. I have never seen it before. Why am I holding a vintage suitcase? Maybe a more urgent question: What the heck am I doing on a ferry? I frantically look around to find some answers. I should have listened to the voice over. There seems to be no one in this cabin. Is this a dream? My chest feels tight. I loosen my tight grip around the suitcase and run to find a clock. The clock is normal . I look to my hands. 10 fingers. Nothing blurry about it.

 ‘Hello?’ ‘Somebody here?’ I hear nothing but the echo of my own voice in the hallways. The ferry moves in a steady pace and I look outside the front window; We are approaching a big island. The softspoken female voice on the intercom starts again:

‘Within 5 minutes we will arrive at our destination. We hope you had a pleasant journey on board and an exquisite trip on Isle of Mourning.

‘Thanks again for choosing Ferry line no choice.’

I must have had a great case of amnesia. I am not kidnaped. As far as I know. I am not dreaming. As I far as I know. But why the silence? Where is everyone? I grab my suitcase. If it is mine to begin with. It is quite heavy and I walk towards the exit. I need to open this thing. Maybe something will spark my memory. When the ferry docks, I walk onshore. I walk straight to the nearest information sign to see when the next ferry will leave to the main land. There will be no ferry boarding until further notice. I look behind me. I need to go back to the ferry. My head turns to the water again. The ferry is sailing away. 

I stare for a while to the body of water. The ferry becomes a blob in the far distance. Great now I am stuck on an island. Isle of mourning what is that for kind of name. I don’t like it. Why would anyone go here? Apparently me. I lay down the suitcase and open it. There is a big hourglass in it. I take it out of the suitcase and the last bit of sand drips in the underside. I turn the hourglass around, but immediately all the sand goes down again. When the sand moves images flash before my eyes. I turn the hourglass again. ‘Go back. Go back.’ I scream. I hear thundering and look to the sky. An ominous cloud fills the heaven. I put the hourglass back in the suitcase and start to run. I need to find shelter. The rain starts to pour down. I open the suitcase again. Maybe there is something in here. My eyes are set on a notebook. It draws me in and I have to open it. I see pictures of her. I hysterically flip the pages until I see white pages appear. So many white pages. I scream to the sky. ‘It was not yet time! Give her back.’ I throw the notebook on the stony path and after it I toss the suitcase. When the stones hit the metal a loud bang fills my eardrums.

The notebook falls apart and I anxiously grab al the papers that just fell out of the notebook. I grab the suitcase and start running again. I come across a bike and put my feet to the pedals. I race away. My heart is beating into my ears and my breath is irregular as I reach the beach. On the beach I see the water crashing unto the shore. The seasalt lingers around me while the seaguls screech in the sky. I walk away from the bike and grab the hourglass. I keep turning the glass hoping the sand will not slip through my fingers. I collect sand an throw it desperately over the hourglass. I scream ‘Come on!’ My hands start to feel numb of the turning. The hourglass starts to slip out of my hands and it falls to the ground. I collapse into the sandy earth right next to it. I stare to the hourglass for minutes or hours. I don’t know.

‘Please give her back. I need more time.’

Her image is fading away. I take the suitcase and open it again and I seek through the rest of the stuff. I find a scissor. The wind roars around my ears and throws my hair in all directions. I grab a piece of my hair and cut it off. I let the piece of hair soar in the wind towards the sea. When I come to my senses again I see a book in the suitcase. I recognize it clearly. I take it on my lap and gently aai over the pages. Salty tears flood the pages. When I don't have a tear left inside of me I lay the book aside me, stand up and walk toward the waves. The storm awakenes the sea into a wild uncontrable force of nature. Just before the water I sit down and cannot hold myself up anymore there I lie at the line where the water meets the shore. The waves hit me again and again. Il'l never see her sweet face again. Il'l never see into her loving eyes. Il'l never hear her voice again.

When I’m totally soaked and shivering like an erupting vulcano. I notice the wind roaring. It sings a song I don't know the words to. It does not matter right now, because it makes me stand up and walk away from the heavy waves. I search again in the suitcase and this time I find a mirror. I take it out and blow the dust of the glass. I follow the botanical metal framing on the side of the mirror. Then my hand reaches to my reflection. As my finger touches the glass everything around me falls quiet. I open my eyes and I am back on the ferry.