SandBoxed Paradise...or is it a Prison

CHAPTER FOUR

I put the broken mirror aside. It was not the first time my imagination had played tricks on me. Still, it was difficult to ignore the growing intensity of my unanswered questions.

Stop speculating. What good does that do?

Maybe additional items in the crate would offer more clues. My eagerness and curiosity returned as I stood to begin a deep dive; but, I couldn't stop the voice questioning the stenciled tag.

Were these my belongings? Where did they come from?

The obvious answer was I had been involved in a shipwreck; but, why the stenciled number? Why out of all things that floated in here would it be this particular box?

The next item inside was a small briefcase held closed by two hinged clasps. Maybe it was silly not to dump the entire crate and get on with it, especially since it was getting dark, but I desired to look at each object with special consideration. So once again, I sat on the sand and curled my feet beneath me. I flipped up the hardware, slowly lifting the lid.

What I found surprised me yet again. There were paints and pencils and several sketchbooks. The first book I picked up had a daisy on the cover. I flipped it open with great anticipation. Perhaps there would be drawings of people or events, something that might remind me of who I was and where I came from; but, that was not what I found.

The many pages were covered with random diagrams that made no sense: three-dimensional geometric shapes accompanied by hand-written notes that looked like gibberish. I paused for a minute, thinking maybe I had forgotten how to read, but a quick pass through the ABCs and random spelling of words had me shaking my head at the silliness. It wasn't me. The entire book was indeed filled with nonsense.

Hmpff. No help at all.

Dropping it back into the case, I picked up the next one in the stack. This cover had a daisy sketched with a silly smiley face in the center, next to a dagger lying on the ground. The first page made me laugh, it was a cartoon...a man eating a sandwich, or trying to anyway. The sandwich itself was much too large for his mouth. At the bottom, a scrawled message read:

"For Dagger. Food for thought. JD"

The remaining pages were filled with descriptions of games accompanied by additional cartoons, all containing the same silly man. I recognized some of the titles, but still, the pages made no sense. Even the one labeled "Hide and Seek" was coupled with diagrams and sketches that seemed unrelated. Like the first journal, they were surrounded by gibberish.

Seriously, what language is this?

Frustrated, I tossed it back into the case and reached for the third and final book. A title in bold large print read: Sheryl's Sandbox. My Sanctuary. The first two words were separated by a thick round ring. Flower petals adorned the edge, almost like they were an afterthought. Another smiley face filled the open circle.

This one was filled with art. No people sketchings, but beautiful landscapes. I instantly noticed the 'JD' scrawled at the bottom of each page, initials matching the first two letters of my tattoo. The images mesmerized me. Despite the personal reprimand I had given myself about speculation, I fantasized.

Are these places I have been? An artistic diary of my travels?

When considering possible occupations before my arrival, an artist had not been in the equation. I still doubted that was the case. These were pleasant to view, but definitely not masterpieces. It wasn't until the fish began their enthusiastic finale and I turned to the last page that my jaw dropped in surprise. I held up the sketching next to the scene before me. It appeared to be an exact duplicate of what was playing out in front of my eyes. Confused and a bit frantic, I returned through the previous pages one by one.

How had I not noticed?

The drawings were of this island. I recognized them all now that I had made the initial connection, all but one...the very first. I had scoured this island many times over, could walk across and back comfortably in a day. In all my time exploring, I had never come across a field of daisies.