SandBoxed Paradise...or is it a Prison

CHAPTER ONE

Amazing colors painted the sky above my tiny corner of the universe. By description 'breathtaking' was inadequate, but the view did indeed take my breath away. As I sat there, I was reminded again to be grateful. I was lucky. It didn't matter that I had no memory, or that I was stranded. Regardless of where I came from or what I had done before...in this moment I could escape the questions, the wondering. I could forget I had forgotten.

Out of all the beautiful spots on the island, this one called to me. It was also here that my life began, opening my eyes, face down in the sand, the sound of water splashing in the distance; and here, I returned with every sunset to nourish my body while everything around me nourished my soul. I sat with my feet curled under me, winding down while the fish kept me company, jumping their synchronized routine.

"Bravo! Again! Again!"

While applauding the fish, I laughed at my words. I'm not sure when I began conversing with myself, but it was now habit. I talked the trees, the rocks, the fish...to everything and to nothing.

How long have I been here now?

There was no answer to that question. Except for small differences in the weather, every day was like the last. Disoriented upon arrival, it never occurred to me to keep track; and now, seemed pointless to begin.

So, I counted accomplishments, not sunsets. Although I had no personal memories, I made discoveries of hidden knowledge. As I looked at an object, a plant, a random piece of wood, I knew how to use them to my advantage. I built many structures around the island; balancing limbs in just the right order, covering them with leaves and vine. Somehow I could see the sound and sturdy design. Yet, I didn't know my name.

These builds were rarely used as personal shelter, but the occasional rainstorm made me thankful. Mostly I used them to hoard fruit or house items I found. I don't know why I collected them, but a rock of a particular size and shape, a piece of metal that washed up on the beach, or a rare group of seashells had me thinking, I might need that.

Perhaps all of this was unnecessary, since further up the beach were small caves that provided safety, and food grew here in abundance. I was very lucky.

Only one thing interrupted my blissful acceptance: the nightmares. Maybe that is why I worked so hard during the day preparing for a hardship that may never arrive. An unadmitted quest for exhaustion. I longed for a single night of restful sleep.

Here, in this tropical paradise, the nightmares were my only enemy. They were persistent, disturbing, and never-ending.