The Orange Island

Chapter 1.

When I opened my eyes, I thought I had been abducted by aliens. And I hadn't gone crazy –or maybe I had– but I wasn't brought back to the image my grandmother that was supposed to be in front of me, but to the grass poking my left cheek and the dark, moldy trunk of an old tree.

I raised my head to look around. There were trees and cuckoos calling above me. I knew this because my dad had taught me to differentiate them from other birds. For some reason it was important to him to differentiate, even more than learning to cross the street. The cuckoos vocalized alone, sad and isolated. They were like a poorly oiled door swaying by the wind. That's how I identified them.

Yes. They were cuckoos.

The tree spread its crown around me, intertwining its green with the blue of the sky. Fck. Where was it? I sat up immediately and looked at my clothes. I was wearing hospital clothes or something like this. A ligh Blue blouse made of the same material that the sheets and matching pants.

"I already died." I concluded and a horrible, hot discomfort invaded my stomach. My eyes were burning so much it felt real. The thing is, according to my perception of things, I couldn't have been more than eight years old. I still didn't have my front teeth because my baby teeth had fallen out. I had a three-year-old little sister whom he had given a horrible scar with the neighbor's hammock. I began to regret not having been a better and more docile girl. She had always caused problems for my parents. I wish I hadn't torn up the homework notebook to say I didn't have one. I would have said less swear words. I would have hugged my grandparents before I left. I would have hugged my parents more. I would have eaten all the soup. I would have worn the dress my mom wanted... I would have...

And, without even fully planning it, I sat down and cried without making much noise. I cried and cried until I had no tears left (you can't cry for all eternity, right?). The animals that walked around me were probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Sorry, Mom, for the rudeness, but no one here cares what you say.

"Shit!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs and I felt that because of the power of my voice, even some birds flew out of the top of the tree above my head. "Bloody heeeell!"

Well, let's face it, it's the most liberating thing. I'm sure I died accidentally, due to carelessness, so at least I need to get my frustration out. I had a family, probably like in the cartoons: I stepped on a banana peel and broke my neck.

And that was all.

I had plans for my life!! Great plans! Go play with the neighbor, stuff myself with chocolate, see what would happen if I farted under the water, stick a popcorn up my nose, watch all the cartoons ever and ever, dress up my hairy sister as Yoda...

I had plans! Big and grandiose plans!

"So small and so mouthy?" I heard behind my back. I winced in shock. I Wasn't alone?

I turned around to see the source of the voice, but no one was there. I looked around: bushes, vines, trees and more trees. Nothing.

"What the hell?" I mumbled. Did I hear wrong?

-No one taught you manners. You are like a savage. -I listened again.

Oh? This time I heard it more clearly.

-You? -I pointed to the trunk. Yes. Even I felt ridiculous pointing at a tree, but... look at me, I'm dead. So there's not much to question.

-Yes, it's me. Can you stop swearing? There are very few things I don't tolerate, but rudeness is not my limit.

-Do the trees here talk?

-When necessary. Especially when we need to establish rules for a healthy coexistence.