Chasing Reflections
A woman’s journey from mystery to magic I Entry Three
This is the final installment in the series. You can find parts one and two linked below.
Darkness.
For years, it has accompanied me through cold and lonely nights.
I don’t know if it’s the absence of light or a tragic demise of hope.
Whatever it is, it seems to have followed me across oceans.
Maybe I’m in purgatory for lost souls or perhaps returned to the infinitely dense and damp woods? It’s hard to tell imaginary from real anymore, but as I regain consciousness, I’m greeted by the darkness, yet again.
“What is this place?” I strain my already blurry vision to inspect my surroundings.
“It’s a.. cabin.”
The cabin is nearly bare, except for an old-fashioned side table awkwardly placed in the corner and a makeshift bed of straw and wooden sticks where I find myself neatly tucked in.
Even in the thick of the night, the place is lit with moonlight filtering through the roof, casting a blue glow on everything.
“Hello?” I call out in the dark.
“Is anyone here?”
“Hello?”
Nothing.
The door is wide open.
Someone has carried me to the shed, but where is that someone?
As I cautiously approach the front door, I notice shreds of seaweed sprawled all over the floor, and emerging from the weeds are greasy footprints heading outside.
Standing at the doorway, I marvel at the night, drenched in the twilight draping a dreamlike veil on everything around me.
It brings back memories of the empty, never-ending nights I have endured over the years. But this night, it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen, weaving a spell so strong I can’t resist.
So, I step into the night’s enchantment.
I can hear the waves dancing under the moonlight as the cool breeze joins in the symphony, carrying the melody through the air.
Something moves among the trees.
That’s when my wandering gaze settles on a shadow, a glistering frame effortlessly gliding under the moonlit sky, perhaps reaching for the ocean.
I fight the urge to call out after the almost-floating silhouette and instead decide to quietly follow.
Oblivious to my presence, the figure leads me down the slope, along a stone walkway winding through the woods, finally stopping at the rim of the shore.
And there, under the engulfing night sky, beaming in all his glory stands my saviour, the beacon of my hope, who has brought me to this side of the ocean.
Now I know, I haven’t been following a mere shadow; it’s a human — a man sculptured to perfection.
I stand frozen, struggling to find my voice.
My insides ache to reach out and touch him, to assure my racing heart that this isn’t a dream after all.
As I try to find my footing, contemplating all the questions I have been dying to ask, the man edges closer to the ocean. Enveloped by the now raging waves, he keeps moving further out.
And slowly, I watch him disappear into the embrace of the ocean — leaving behind the mystery of his existence.
It’s been six months since I found my way to this island.
A reflection emanating from across the ocean gave hope to find this place. That reflection still exists in the form of a little piece of glass hung on my new cabin’s door.
Every morning, I’m greeted by the moist seaweed scattered across the floor, near my bed, an assurance that I’m not alone.
Every midnight, I walk to the ocean, yearningly searching for the shadow that once merged with the waves.
Every night, I sit on the edge of this rock — waiting.
