Wishes and Plans

Maybe I should stop making them. That way, I won't be disappointed.

Island

Foamy waves soothingly rolled up the shore and I paused to look at the horizon. The sky was stained a gentle pink, with bubbles gathering around the wooden posts secured to the ground, stood a few feet away. At the top of these were thick ropes, worn with age and weather. They stretched along the beach in an irregular line and the ropes- some thin, or thick, or old, or new or grades inbetween in various tones-led outwards into the sea. Some of the ropes sunk down immediately into the sand, others had a tattered end that moved with the slightest wind.

I walked forward, towards a gleaming post. The rope quivered and I looked along it, tracing the slight arc towards the other island. I knew that you couldn't get into the water. These ropes were the only connections to the other islands, and this post was my most precious. There was no one waiting for me on the other side today, so I slowly went back into the heart of my own island and slept until tomorrow.