Shipwreck Writing Challenge : Round Two | I realized there was something wrong with this island...a kaleidoscopic dream?

My gratitude to God, to Life, to the Stars and the swimming lessons I took at the Van Balen school, vanished as soon as I could step on solid ground on that island.

At first I thought my chill was the product of the exposure of my naked body exposed to the breeze of the beach, after removing the tatters that were left of my clothes after my unbridled fight against the waves and the remains of the yacht of my friends, the Brauns. , a few kilometers from the area that those that until today I called charlatans, describe as the triangle of the devil.

It had been a little over twelve hours since something like a giant camel hump crossed the route of the ship where I was living a bacchanal among beautiful women, delicious foods and drinks but not as much as that Puerto Rican girl I met in the pier and between flirting and the first sips of wine agreed to come with us. Already in my cabin, we made love in a thousand different ways, it hurts me to remember how I saw his beautiful body split in two when the yacht's hull cracked and one of the sheets of steel hit the shower space in which miraculously I was not there. That hump seemed to move with the collapsed yacht and I only managed to find no traces of life around me to throw me to that island that I saw, today I'm not sure if the hump was not more than the highest plateau of that gloomy, ghostly space and at the same time fascinating because of everything I found.

As I was telling you, I decided to go into the beach to try some fruit or grass that I could eat and what would be my surprise that I had not advanced a kilometer when I found myself in a clearing with a large table with as many foods and drinks as there were delights My palate on the Braun ship and a few meters from the formidable inn was a shop in the style of Arab sheikh camps that I had seen in old movies that my grandparents like Lawrence of Arabia and Ben-Hur showed me, and the The biggest surprise would come later when from that access covered with transparent and translucent fabrics emerged three beautiful women, dressed in equally transparent robes in three colors that seemed to show their race: Caucasian, Latin American and Mediterranean.

Somehow, they bore a great resemblance to the brides, Wolfgang and Mathias Braun, whom I still hope to see again and my partner during the trip, the unfortunate Belinda, who definitely saw me die a few meters from me.

They approached me, took me in their arms and took me to the inside of the store where they bathed me in a gigantic tub and after healing my wounds they offered me all the delicacies that any man could dream in unison.

When I awoke, I was again invaded by the chill I felt upon my arrival, which became an error when I noticed that I was immersed in a green and thick swamp with animal bones and a pair of jaws and skulls that undoubtedly must have been of a miserable human being.

The one closest to me because of the sharpness of the occipital bone could have sworn it belonged to Wolfang Braun. My despair was so great that I found the strength to move my legs that seemed to be numb as if I had spent days in that mud pit and pushed myself against a viscous bottom and came out with my legs sore full of sores.

I ran as best I could, and as I walked away from that mud prison, I found a kind of corridor in the middle of the vegetation that I thought was basically of oaks and sloes, until I saw something that I will never forget. An immense stone head perfectly carved as I had seen them in one of the films of the saga "Lord of the Rings" but more similar to the images that when my father showed me how the Colossus of Rhodes could have been.

And beyond, hanging from one of the sloes, I saw a golden skin of sheep. In an inexplicable way, I was before the very golden fleece.

The surprise moved me and excited pleasantly, but the pain in my shattered legs, made me succumb and fell collapsed between the fleece and the dashing head of the Colossus.

A beautiful nurse massaged my legs while I put in them a kind of lotion that more than medicinal seemed a perfume, for the pleasant smell of fruit that emitted, I looked at the green eyes and I thought I was facing a version of the 21st century Sophia Loren, was so much the candor that I found in his eyes and the need to bite those breasts that I fell asleep, at that time, like a baby.

I open my eyes once more and I found myself back in my studio, in front of this computer, writing, thinking about that island where there was something wrong but somehow it gave me, and the scars that I have on my legs are proofs , enough mysteries to unravel during what remains of my existence.