Alone

As winter is getting colder, I thought a little escape to a mysterious tropical island might be fun - with a twist. Enjoy!

Work had become an unrelenting force, and the prospect of escaping the harsh winter for a couple of weeks in the South felt like a lifeline. Sunshine, beaches, and a reprieve from the bone-chilling cold were precisely what I needed. Booking an all-inclusive trip, I found myself on a plane, eagerly heading towards a much-needed vacation.

As we soared through the sky, I drowned out the ambient noise with music, settling into my seat. Succumbing to the familiar lull of the plane's motion, I drifted into a deep slumber. Abruptly, I awoke to the sensation of landing. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes and peered out the window, expecting the familiar sight of a tropical paradise.

To my surprise, the landscape before me was entirely alien. Nothing seemed recognizable – not the language, not the script on signs, and certainly not the faces around me. A taxi driver held up a sign with my name, the only thing I could read, and I followed him, assuming the resort had arranged transportation. Attempts to communicate were futile due to the language barrier.

The taxi dropped me off at a dock, and I found myself on a small boat. Confused and with no way to confirm my destination, I followed the driver to a small island where I was left with my luggage. A beautiful cabin stood on the private beach, and I wondered if it was all part of the package I had booked. When I turned around to ask, there was no sign of the boat, the driver, or even land, as if none of it ever existed. I was truly alone.

Shock gave way to fear. Where was I, and how was I supposed to get back home? Forgetting my suitcase in the white sand, I rushed to the cabin, searching for any sign of communication. There was nothing – no phone, no hotel card, just a well-maintained but empty cabin.

Night fell, and with no answers, I accepted my stranded fate. At least I had a roof over my head. Defeated, I collapsed onto the bed, hoping the new day might bring some clarity.

The next morning, I resumed my investigation. I opened every cabinet and searched every room. There was no change; the entire cabin was still empty. I headed outside and looked around the small island, making my way through thick bushes. There was no sign of life anywhere, not even animals. Beyond the horizon, the city I had come from had not reappeared.

The walk had worked up my appetite, especially since I hadn't had dinner the previous evening. I knew the fridge was empty, and I wondered what I would do. Part of me half expected I would have to fish or gather fruits, although I knew nothing of the local flora, nor had I seen fishing rods.

Unsure of what to do next, I went back to the cabin, dying for a shower when I remembered I left my suitcase on the beach. With a swear, I turned around to go get it, hoping it was still there. To my surprise, the suitcase was right there, at the foot of the bed. It was the same one I had left behind. Bewilderment washed over me. I hadn't brought it into the cabin, so how did it end up here? Had someone brought it in for me, an unseen servant?

Cautiously going through it, nothing inside seemed strange or out of place. I took my shower, put on a fresh change of clothes, and headed to the kitchen. I knew the fridge and pantry were empty, yet I still opened the doors and looked for anything I could eat, feeling my stomach grumble. To my surprise, it was now stocked with food. It was as if the island was responding to my needs, anticipating my desires. The strange occurrences both fascinated and frightened me. I was a stranger in a land that seemed to be playing tricks on my understanding of reality. Was I simply going mad?

Days turned into a peculiar routine. I woke up every morning and toured the island in vain, looking for a way home. Food materialized in the fridge, appearing as if conjured by an invisible chef. The island seemed to be playing a game, a dance of illusion that blurred the lines between reality and fantasy.

Despite these mystical occurrences, the feeling of isolation persisted. The island, with its enchanting tricks, couldn't replace the warmth of human connection. I spoke to the air, hoping for some form of response, but the only reply was the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of waves.

As the days slipped away, the island became my world, and the strange occurrences became part of my everyday life. The island maintained its enchanting allure, but the novelty had worn thin. Loneliness, like an uninvited guest, lingered in every corner of the cabin. The island provided for my physical needs, but the ache for human connection remained unfulfilled.

At sundown, I sat on the beach, watching the waves, I thought about how this all came to be. I had wished for an escape from my life, and here I was. The island, with its inexplicable magic, had become my home. The initial shock had given way to acceptance, and in this surreal existence, I found a strange sense of peace. Each day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and purple, I marvelled at the beauty of my secluded world, still hanging onto the hope of someday finding my way back.