Love and Fantasy on

Author: (USA) Vacha Masu / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-01-01
Features: Suddenly, the boat changed its course at a sharp angle. The captain announced that he would try to steer it toward the Azalea Island, as it was closer and had a beautiful beach. We all saw the small island; as it seemed to get closer, a roaring storm suddenly caught up with us. The sky grew extremely dark, and in no time, the gray-black clouds turned into a waterfall instead of rain. I realized that everything was finished—the island, the beach, lunch, strolling under the palm trees, and even sunbathing. All that was left was swimming in the torrential rain. The captain's two assistants quickly distributed life jackets to everyone, and we quickly put them on. Without any explanation or hesitation, the captain turned the boat around and steered it back. Perhaps he did so deliberately, as he couldn’t see anything, in reality, he had lost control of everything. No, the boat didn’t capsize. When we hit a reef, it only made a terrifying scraping sound. The reef might have been just below the surface, but even if it was above water, it would have been impossible to spot, as nothing could be seen through the thick rain curtain. Then, everything turned upside down. Besides many screams, I couldn’t recall anything else—the kind of screams people let out when facing death. Then, suddenly, the boat disappeared. Without the boat, only the people in life jackets remained, and even they vanished when the wind and waves hit them from all sides. No one was saved. In a very short time, everything vanished without a trace. There were no cries, no screams, no heads bobbing like fish floats on the surface. I remember seeing an empty life jacket. I thought that having two would be better than one, so I reached out to grab it, but just as I did, it disappeared. The giant waves churned up and down, and the wind poured seawater into my mouth, nose, and lungs, seeping into every part of my body. Now, it sounds absurd, but among all the unrealistic thoughts, I suddenly recalled a scene from Pierre Loti’s The Fisherman of Iceland, where the fisherman celebrated his wedding night with the sea. Could this be my wedding day? I swam toward that small island, as I couldn’t see anything and didn’t know if I was swimming in the right direction. Perhaps, this was what they called a sixth sense? I realized I was swimming, but I was tossed from the trough of the waves to the crest, then thrown down again, and this cycle of up and down continued endlessly. I swallowed a mouthful of salty, bitter seawater. Occasionally, I was submerged by towering waves as high as mountains. I struggled to surface, taking brief, joyful breaths, only to be submerged again by nature’s relentless torment. I couldn’t tell how long this lasted. I only remember that when a great stillness finally grasped me, nothing else mattered anymore. I had lost control of myself and everything else—what else could be important? It seemed that after an inner peace and complete exhaustion, I was drifting into sleep. Was I really going to sleep? How absurd! A weak, forty-year-old man fighting the entire South Pacific and likely losing the battle. Where was the referee? Where was the judge? Who could judge the glory of fighting to the death for survival? This was truly absurd! P3-4