Island Has Ghosts

Chapter 1

Someone beside her whispered to her in a strange language and stroked her back affectionately. It was these touches that brought Violet to her senses. It seemed as if some force had snatched her out of the gloom of unconsciousness and gently pampered her in his arms, then lowered her onto something soft and airy, like a featherbed. Only she had forgotten to cover her with a blanket!

The cold touched her feet, tickled her bare ankles, slid to her waist, snuck under her clothes and bit her neck. Violet shrugged shakily and reluctantly opened her eyes. A rounded pebble lay almost next to her nose. A dark line crisscrossed the gray naked stone like a grain of pearl, and a tiny hole was visible in the corner. 'Chicken God' - a pebble that brings good luck... But it was hard to call it a successful awakening: his gaze slid over the damp sand and tripped over a driftwood covered with algae.

"Why is there sand and driftwood in the bedroom?" The fog dispelled in the same second. Violet sat up with a jerk, but immediately bent down, struck by a coughing fit. Her lungs felt like they were stuffed with glass wool. Still coughing, she took her hand away from her mouth, almost certain she would see blood. But no, the palm of her hand was clean, save for the grains of sand that had adhered to it. As her breathing evened out, more questions came to mind: "Where am I? How did I get here? What's going on?"

Ahead, as far as the eye could see, was water. It was either the sea or a wide river, its shores disappearing into the haze that obscured the horizon... Along it stretched an endless stretch of wild, scrubby beach. Violet slowly rose to her feet, looked around confusedly, and was relieved to find that she was wearing her usual clothes: a blue T-shirt and her favorite light blue pants made of light fabric. She took these pants on all her summer trips because they didn't wrinkle, they were comfortable, and they weren't hot. So, judging by the clothes, she was here for a vacation. Violet furrowed her brow, but it was as if the memories were drowning in fog. She gingerly groped her head, checking for a bump. There must be a reason for the amnesia, right? But her fingers found no bumps or abrasions. That was good, though it didn't explain anything. Dipping her hand into the water, Violet licked her palm. The taste turned out to be fresh, so it wasn't the sea! The associations, vague as the outlines of objects appearing through a smoke screen, dissipated before she could form a coherent picture of what was happening.

"Hey!" Violet shouted, hoping to get someone's attention. She waved her arms and even jumped up and down, like shipwreck victims do in the movies.

It was unclear what she was hoping for-maybe that someone would respond, come to her aid, take her by the hand, and explain where she was? If so, it was in vain. The only answer she got was the noisy splash of a wave against the shore and the rustle of the wind in the shrubbery. Stefania pressed her palms to her cheeks and exhaled slowly, because the panic that flooded her made her want to burst into tears. What if she really was on a desert island, like a modern-day Robinson Crusoe? Only she doesn't have the skills to survive in extreme conditions. She's a typical city girl, spoiled by the benefits of civilization and used to relaxing in comfort.

"No. No! If I were to crash, it would affect my appearance!" Violet took another careful look around herself. Her clothes, though crumpled, were dry and intact. Only the soles of her sandals were wet. Her hair was tangled with moisture and perhaps resembled a crow's nest, but that was its usual state if she hadn't used a hair dryer and comb after washing it. Unable to bear the ignorance any longer, Violet walked along the shore, hoping to meet someone.

The beach stretched in an endless and monotonous line, interrupted, like gaps, by bushes. There was nothing else - no hotels, no fishing shacks, no overturned boats, no fishing nets drying in the sun, no debris thrown ashore by the waves that hinted at the habitability of the place. Not even a trace of animals and birds could be seen! Only a dotted line of shrubbery across the yellow-gray canvas of sand. At one point Violet even hesitated - could she be walking in circles? There was that bush with a branch sticking out, as if raised in a welcoming hand gesture! But when panic made her throat feel queasy, Violet heard a quiet sigh.