Dream Sequence

That feeling. The sopping wet socks clinging to my feet as they squish in my boots makes my skin crawl. Of course, after what I've been through these past few days, it’s the least of my troubles. The sun feels good on my skin after swimming through that lake, sending a better kind of shiver through me. My clothes will take quite a bit longer to warm with the sunlight fading for the day, but they’ll have to do for now.

Several yards into the beach is something wooden. It could be part of an old boat or a warped crate. Whatever it is, it’s pretty worn from age. Worn and the perfect size for a makeshift table. The overgrown forest behind it seems dark and ominous in contrast, silhouetting the bright, inviting wreckage. I’m not going in there tonight.

I still have the heavy melon clutched in my right arm as my feet clear the sloshing surf. The peel is a light greenish color. Probably a honeydew melon. That hardly matters now as I drag my tired legs toward the line of trees. I’m so hungry I could eat almost anything.

It’s definitely a crate of some kind. The melon makes a satisfying thud as I drop my arm to the wood. Just sitting in the sand here is probably too much of a break. I can already feel my legs turning to jelly as the muscles relax for the first time in a long time. I might not be able to stand again for hours. This could be a problem when the cool air of the night washes over me.

As hungry as I am, the melon isn't my first priority. My fingers move with more ease than the rest of my body as they untie the sweatshirt from my waist. It takes a few tugs to pull it from under me. I lay it to the left of the melon to dry. If I can get the dampness out before dark it will be a great shield from the cold.

I smile as I notice my left index finger absently tracing along the lettering. The worn letters “O T I N G” are barely recognizable now, the only hint at the original message. At one time it read “When nothing goes right, go left” in bright white. It used to be Dad’s favorite saying. I was wearing it when he died.

“Stop it.” I can’t let those kinds of thoughts worm their way into my mind now. Not when I’m so close.

Cut the melon. Just cut into it and eat. One step at a time. I pull the pocketknife from my pants and force it open. I've been relying on it a lot since I ended up on this stupid island. Dad gave that to me too.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” My whole body stiffens. That wasn't my voice.

I can hear the shuffling of sand to my left, but I dare not look. There isn't anybody else here. I’m alone.

“Can you hear me?” The tiny voice cuts through the air. It’s so loud in the silence she might as well have shouted.

“I’m alone.” I've been alone for days. If there were others here, I would've noticed by now… Right?

I see the flutter of faded pink. My god, it’s real. My neck aches as I turn to meet her gaze. A kid. She couldn't be more than eight or nine. She looks at me with curious eyes. Do I respond? Has looking at her removed any chance that I’m hallucinating?

“Me too.” She says as she plops down on the other side of the crate. No, no, no. I've acknowledged it. I’m stuck with it now.

The knife sinks into the melon easily. The words are caught in my throat as I carve a chunk and hand it to her. She greedily takes it and bites into the tender fruit. It’s hard to swallow but I take a bite myself.

Oh. My. God. The sweet, juicy ecstasy. The flavor is enough to make me forget about the girl for a moment. A moment is all I get though as my stomach reminds me that it has been empty for more than 20 hours. I quickly carve out a few more pieces and pop one in my mouth. So good.

The girl’s staring at me now. Remarkable. The look in her eyes screams starving, but she waits patiently for me to give her permission. I nudge a piece toward her and she scoops it up. I watch her as she devours it.

“You’re pretty.” She says when she’s finished.

I mumble a thank you as I eat more. I’m sure I’m far from pretty at the moment.

“I’m Tiffany. What’s your name?” She’s so damned polite.

I try to smile, to seem friendly. I've never been big on kids. “Jennifer.”

She nods, like she knew the answer already, and motions behind her. “Were you on the boat when it crashed?”

Crashed… Right. Wait, was she on the boat? There was no reason for a kid to be on this trip, but she could've been. I don’t know anything about the captain. And I certainly won’t presume to know how his mind works now. Not after what he did.

“Yeah. You?”

She shakes her head. “I've been here for a while.” Her eyes have glazed now, staring at something that isn't there. “I miss them.”
She probably means her parents. I know the feeling. What I wouldn't give to have Dad here now, keeping me safe from the… Stop it. I don’t have the luxury of being depressed. Especially not now that I have someone else to take care of.

“Did you want to come here?” An odd question. “I wanted to be with my brother and sister, but they said this place was better.” Oh.

I should reassure her, right? “I did want to come here, yeah. I was going to go hiking with some friends.”

“Where are they?” Her eyes are still so distant.

“Probably fixing my boat about now if I know them.” She doesn't need to know what really happened.

“It must have been expensive to travel all the way out here.”

That’s an understatement. “It’s okay, my family’s pretty well off. I didn't mind.”

Her eyes snap back to focus and lock on mine. “Are you a princess? A magical princess come to rescue me?”

Not how I’d put it, but it kind of fits I guess. I am going to rescue her if I can and rich people are treated like royalty most of the time. As for the magical part… “Yeah. I guess I am.”