The Island

Waking Up

The sea smells salty. Not like a foul smell that makes your insides curl, but a delightful scent that makes you zealous inside. The first time I smelt it, all the stress I had of life vanished, and I was just me... I didn't have anything to worry about.

My eyes fly open. Yet I smell the sea, I'm not laid across a towel, sprawled on the grainy surface of sand. All I see is darkness.

I sit up from my bed... but I begin to realize I'm not at home in my own bedroom. The lights are out, and it's nearly pitch black outside. It's colder than ever, the chill creeping up my back. I begin to wonder where the warm feeling of the spring's gone.

My fingers wrap around the bed frame and I push myself up, the mattress creaking when I do. I walk over to the window, my feet brushing against the dusty floor every time I take a step. The bitter cold of the window swims inside me, the feeling getting more intense as I approach even closer to the view of the snowy scene.

I lean against the window frame, my eyes grazing the landscape. A feeling of excitement rushes through my veins like electricity. I've never seen snow before, considering the fact that I live in San Diego, California. I'm quick to push the feeling back down. This isn't real, but yet it feels so authentic.

I look around the room. It's small and dusty, cobwebs lining the walls. Through the curtain of darkness around me, I can distinguish a bed and a dresser, shoved beside each other in the far corner. My fingertips run across the meek and rough surface of the walls. They feel so old, and yet I've never seen anything like them.

My hand reaches the cold metal of the doorknob. Reluctantly, I turn it, curiosity taking over. A dim lit hallway stretches longingly towards the large decorative window, the white gleam of snow reflecting the light of the moon. Doors line the hallway reminding me of the old prisons we took a tour of in Europe. I start pacing towards one, but footsteps boom in another room.

I shuffle over to the main room. Right beside the stairs, another dark oak wood door stands tall. From under it, I can see firelight leaking through it. I walk over and press my ear against its cold surface. I can sense people whispering, but I can't tell how many. Without thinking, my wrist turns, and the door swings ajar.

Before I can even take a glance inside the room, someone grabs me by the shoulder and drags me in, shutting the door violently behind me. I stumble to the ground, my breaths quickening.

"You mustn't leave the door open at this time of night," a girl hisses. "It's almost the witching hour."

I look up. An Asian girl looks down at me, wearing a tank top and sweatpants, arms crossed and dark hair cascading down her slim neck. I can't help but notice how piercing her eyes are.

My eyes travel to the source of light - a blazing fire illuminating several other people. At first sight, they look old. The shadows look like creases around their faces, but as I look closer, I can see their age difference must not be that different from mine.

"Give her a break Natty," a guy says from the couch. He stands up, pacing towards us.

He looks down at me with irredeemably blue eyes. His muffled brown hair shines in the light of the fire and his height seems to double from my point of view. He extends his hand. I don't take it. Instead I get up from the ground myself. I don't need help to do a simple task like that.

Now I can sense every pair of eyes in the room on me. I can tell no one's trying to be rude, but in some strange way, I feel... exposed.

"What's the name?" the girl with the black hair asks.

For a second, my mind goes blank and all I can think of is my bedroom. God, do I ever want to wake up now.

"Kiara," I blurt. It sounds more like 'Kawa' than 'Kiara', but they seem to understand.