The Missing Traveler.

“Sound of a Splash”;

The redness of his eyes traumatised the sparkling water, blemishing the blue sky and placing the redness in the very heart of the ocean. It was the day when she, the ocean, had lost someone really special; it ought to be as he remained her only companion who had stayed for this long.

The sea lay dead as the breeze had grew fond of the silence which reverberated from the desert ashore.  In midst of these conditions of turmoil, there lay a man marooned all alone on this island of doom. Along the shore, we find the ruins of the possible ship which might have brought the gentleman to this place.  Years lay testimony to the plight of this unlucky traveller whose fate remain blemished even under the ever bright sun.

The diary which the marooned traveller adored like his companion was filled with the life moments which he could never forget. The life which he once had, which he once hated and which he could never get back, all engrained into the diary to the extent that there was no space left to write. As the pages were rolled back, the time played back these moments, reliving them and making the hope to survive for a while longer.

The pages offered a lot which was too hard to digest, most importantly the very reason he got himself landed in this barren island. It was neither out of compelling circumstances nor owing to poor luck, but it was he who decided to part away. However for him, it was from the world which quenched every inch of his happiness away from him, while he like the others neglected the part before, the one which he lived since the day he knew how to breathe. It was the same part which made him realize what happiness really was and also which made him all desperate when he couldn’t find it again.

The stark irony was that in every page he mentioned about the people from the same world which he despised so much. All were attached with different emotions, some of love, some of anger, some of betrayal but the single most important factor which summarized everything was how much he missed the world he had left behind. It was evident with the number of trials and methods he had tried to use to rebuild his boat, but to no avail…

With the blood mystifying into the ever expanding ocean, there swims a new boat to the coast carrying a survivor with it.

Is it a story in which I am the narrator or is it me who is looking into the possible path which I had accidentally gotten into.

I have two different endings to this, especially in respect to the grade of darkness involved and the consequences which lay ahead.

Ending 1:

Hope is a beautiful thing which one needs to adore and be a friend of because we might never know when this beautiful thing will find its way back to reignite us.

Boat had a crew from the distant world, but with members who were still close to person marooned. This time I was lucky as my days weren’t numbered anymore like the person in the diaries pages was; I had to thank him, the one who left behind this diary of his which was responsible for me being alive and hopeful.

It had been over three years since the Cessna plane I was travelling had crashed. I had an assignment which was due, and which made me take flight though weather conditions weren’t too kind for flying. I still remember that day when I bid my family goodbye, cutting short our long due vacation, to complete my assignment on time.

As the crew escorts me back to the ship, my eyes transfix on the diary which I wantedly leave behind, so that it becomes the light for someone else’s heart when the darkness pervades over one’s mind in that barren island. I leave behind the legacy of the man, who accepted doom which enlightened the rest.

Ending 2:

Am I the story or am I just lost?

As the body sinks in water, as the blood diffuses along the water, the mind swings back to the present. Making me wonder, was there really an island where I was marooned into. But the tubes attached to the nerves on my hand, along with a machine which peeped with every beat of my heart made me understand the difference.

As I motion my eyes wide open, I see a hustle in the eyes of nurse sitting across with an apple in her hand. Within seconds, there was huge rush around, making me recognize the world I long forgot. Behind all this commotion which surrounded me, I failed to notice a patient newly admitted who has been placed along in the very room I had been laid to rest for over three years.

It had been just over an hour since I had realized that my long held reality was a mere hallucination, and all the long held fears which I had kept close in the diary of my mind had just started to flow right back at me. This only made me relive those moments, even the one which had the reason for my present state.

The very reason which made me think again and which made me finally choose.

Am I just a story or Am I truly lost? With the blood mystifying into the ever expanding ocean, there swims a new boat to the coast carrying a survivor with it. Though the boat was new, but the survivor was old; He knew the ocean and the ocean knew him.


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