Garden of the Hungry

Prologue

First he felt a hard jolt, followed by a strong whip on his back. He tried to yell, but his lungs had been filled with salty water as his body revolved around its own axis. God! I'm drowning! Confused, he flapped his arms and legs as he could, searching for guidance in the dense darkness of the seabed. He panicked when he realized his lungs were about to explode in search for oxygen, and his head was tingling like and old bell. In a sudden act of intelligence, he let his body sink a little, so as to have an accurate notion of how distant the surface was. That way, he obtained the so much needed guidance; desperate, kicked and paddled upwards, perceiving his body lose a little bit more consciousness every second that passed. It felt as if he was miles away from the top, but when he thought death was certain, he managed to emerge his head and find the air he longed for.

Stunned, saw the storm punishing the sea, with its voracious winds and lightning tearing the black sky. To his side, wooden wrecks of what previously should have been a vessel danced over the waves, crashing against a bank of rocks that looked like giant fingers arising from the ocean.

He turned around upon hearing a scream coming from some place above the tumultuous waters. His gaze wandered amidst the chaos until it ended at a specific spot, where the lightnings revealed a young woman clinging to a baby, struggling to remain afloat in the open sea.

Instinctively, the man picked up one of the hull's pieces seemingly sturdy enough, and swam in her direction.

"Hey! Hold on to this!"

The girl, still scared, laid the back of her body on the wooden plank and placed the child at the center. She moved away the soaked hair covering her face and salient breasts, hidden under the dress. She coughed and turned to the man, in absolute panic:

"Oh, God! The baby is not breathing! We have to save it!"

"But I don't know what to--" The nervousness blocked his words. He had no idea what to do.

"Do something! Please, do something!" The woman begged, while her eyes poured tears, which blended to the raindrops on her cheeks.

Moved by the intensity of the appeal, he beat his legs and forced the plank supporting the child until they reached the base of the rocky mountains. After that, he carried that small being over the slope and, although unsteady, reached the slimy top.

Improvising, he initiated an emergency resuscitation procedure: he blew into the baby's mouth and delicately pushed its chest with his fingers, alternating both actions. He did not succeed; the boy was still limp and purplish, showing no signs of recovery. The moments of agony seemed never-ending.

Right below him, the waves lashed at the stones, while the girl grasped herself so she wouldn't succumb, amid screams muffled by the magnificence of nature.

Against all the hopelessness, the baby suddenly woke up, pouring water from its mouth. A rebirth orchestrated by the crash of the most powerful thunder that broke out that night. The survivors screamed with joy.

"You did it!" Cheered the girl, and awkwardly pulled the boy against her chest, expressing an undeniable passion. "Thank you very much!"

"Actually, we did it," corrected the man, laughing on his knees atop the dark rock. It could be just the extreme joy, but he suspected it had something to do with the immense relief flowing through his legs.

As they recovered, the boy's lips arched a little, and they stared in amazement at that simple gesture in the middle of a storm.

"It wouldn't be fair if the rain erased something so perfect," she laid eyes on the small one, moved.