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At first, the island ended in front of me. I walked along the coast and found that my husband’s notes were scattered like crumbs. I hope they were written by him. Sometimes he pressed the bottom of the rock, sometimes he punctured the branches and sometimes he rolled them up angrily. They were very important to me, even if some of them were true and some were accidental coincidences. It was very important for me to arrive at the island at that time. I still believe in cause and effect. I believe that the South Border Bureau may still recognize determination. But once you find out that the price of "determination" is to make many things disappear, what should you do?
According to my husband’s diary, he arrived at the island for the first time for six days. It took me a little longer because the rules have changed. Because the land was solid the day before, the land became unstable the next day. Sometimes it was like my feet collapsed, and the fluorescence of the lighthouse became stronger and stronger. It seemed that the whole day would be occupied by halo. From the telescope, it seemed that there were huge objects slowly rising at the bottom of the waves for many days. However, I was not ready to face it.
Birds flying overhead leave a string of vague colors as if they were hallucinations. They look docile and tame, as if it is easy to persuade or control. I feel trapped in the eternal journey. Soon I will need a place similar to the "camp"-to eliminate the lasting depression, because I believe that it seems to be reliable to have a foot road through the environment, although it is becoming more and more overgrown and winding, but it has not stopped and disappeared.
If it leads me to the cliff, will I stop or step over the edge? Or will that lack of sense prompt me to turn around and try to find the border gate? It’s hard to predict what I’ll do. My thinking track is scattered. From time to time, I twist from side to side during my journey, just like Yan suddenly turns sideways in the blue sky, but suddenly returns to the original route. The short deviation is to chase insects, protein
I don’t know how much of these phenomena and thoughts can be attributed to the sense of body brightness. According to the current development trend, it may be part rather than part. When I find out the characteristics of the sense of light, it will change again. On the fifth morning, when I got up from the grass and mud, the sense of light formed an imperceptible second skin on my body. When I opened my eyes, it cracked slightly and briefly, like an incredibly thin layer of ice. I could hear it melting and cracking as if it came from a distant place.
As time went on that day, my chest felt bright like a hot and red stone. Although it was unpopular, it was beating with my heart. Scientists wanted to perform anesthesia to remove foreign bodies. Although I was not a doctor, I felt bright or a tumor. I remember that I thought that I might talk to animals or roll in the mud the next morning and laugh hysterically in the blue sky. Maybe I would find that the light came out of my head curiously like a periscope-independent and full of energy, but there was only a shell left.
At dusk that day, a group of large reptiles stared at me from the water. These stupid carnivores just grinned and giggled at me. I ignored the insect bites. At this time, the sense of light had reached my head and hidden all my thoughts, just like gradually cooling charcoal and burying cold ashes. I could no longer find out whether the sense of light was a feeling or an impulse or an infection. I was on my way to an island, but I didn’t know if I could find the answer there. Was it because I really should go or because I was guided by an invisible stranger? Is a companion’s sense of light more independent than I thought? Psychologists have spoken. I keep seeing them in my head. How can I drive them away?
These are not imaginary questions, not idle speculation, but real worries. Sometimes I feel that the last conversation with psychologists is like a wall or a barrier separating me from the sense of light. These words seem to have special effects and activate some characteristics of my body, but no matter how I ponder this conversation over and over again, I will eventually come to a conclusion. Some things are difficult to grasp even if you are close.
That night, I set up a tent to light a bonfire, because I was not expected to be seen by anyone. Even if the sense of light was independent, even if everything in the area could see me, so what? I once again felt that desperate mood-and gladly accepted that the lighthouse light had faded long ago, but I found that I would still look at it. It was a huge spiritual pillar and a huge trap. There were also plenty of thistles here, and I couldn’t help but look at them as regional spies, but everything here was both a monitor and a monitored one.
I remember the strong and cold wind blowing from the coast. I deliberately paid attention to these details to resist the sense of light-like everyone else, I was superstitious and moaned in the dusk soon, and the familiar footsteps seemed as if someone was dragging a heavy body through the reeds. I shivered but laughed. I said, "It’s an old friend!" Not so old, not really a friend, disgusting humble creature, maybe it is only at this moment that I have a deep feeling for it, just like treating my kin. I set out to find it all the way, a bright, gloomy, low-mumbled, anxious monster? Yes, but then the crawler, I’d rather accept the simpler mystery.
2 wailing monster
Once I escaped from the monster, but now I want to look for it. The search process is ridiculous. I don’t need to repeat it. I need to distinguish whether the reeds are blown down by the wind or messed up by the monster. I also need to trudge through the mud to prevent spraining my ankle or getting stuck in mud.
At last, I came to a land, which was really covered with sparse weeds and surrounded by reeds. In the distance, a monster with pale color and maggot-like shape was moaning and struggling, and the ground covered with reeds seemed to have no speed I had seen before. I soon realized that it was sleeping.
Compared with the body, its head is small and its face is facing the other side, so I can see that the neck connected to the head is thick and wrinkled. I still have a chance to leave, and I feel flustered for good reason. The determination to let me leave the road just now has vanished, but I still stayed because it seems to be unaware of the outside world.
I walked forward, pointing my gun at the monster so close, and it wailed like a living church clock making a strange tremulous guttural sound. Here, the method sneaks quietly-the mud is full of dry reeds and weeds, and it crackles at every step-but it still sleeps. My tube shines on it. Its huge body is like a mixture of pigs and slugs. Its pale skin is mottled with light green moss. Its front and rear limbs are also similar to pigs, but at the end, there are three thick fingers in the middle of its body, and two fleshy appendages grow near its stomach.
I shone the tube on the monster’s head. The oval and pink skull face was too thick and solid. When it met last time, I found a shedding mask. As the shape of the mask shows, this sleeping face in front of the psychologist of my husband’s exploration team showed unimaginable pain. The mouth was always in an O-shape, and it gave a depressed cry. When its legs repeatedly trampled around the circle, it stopped. Its eyes were covered with a white film, so I knew it was blind.
It stands to reason that I should feel something. This meeting may arouse my emotion or disgust. However, when I got into the underground tower and was swallowed up by the crawler, I lost all my feelings. Although it looked tortured and painful beyond imagination, I still had no reaction, even the simplest and usual sympathy.
This monster should be a dolphin with weird eyes or a wild boar, and it looks like it has just entered a new body. There may be a certain pattern in it, but it seems to be a mistake. It seems that the region has always been perfect, and there has been a mistake in the assimilation process. This makes me wonder if the sense of light indicates something similar to this ending. The coastline disappears silently into the beach, sea breeze and swamp. These will not bother me, maybe never, but the scene before me-this blind and stubborn search-is different. Am I deceiving myself and being controlled by the sense of light is a painless one? The wailing monster is not beautiful at all, but it makes people feel some kind of terrorist intervention.
I can’t intervene in this situation even if I watch it struggle forever. Part of the reason is that I’m not sure what it stands for because of incomplete information. I can’t understand that it may be pleasant to feel the pain-the dream of disabled people is comfortable and gratifying. I also thought of a problem. The exploration team did not know what it brought into the area to finally lead to this state.
My memory is mixed with many of his worries, which I can remember at this moment. Finally, I took a hair sample, which was as small as his-I should be surprised by this consistency, but I didn’t-and I went back to the small and poor bonfire, surrounded by desolation.
However, this encounter did have a certain impact on me. I am determined not to be impressed by the light and refuse to give up my identity-not yet. If I let my guard down one day, I will become a moaning monster in the reeds. I still can’t accept this possibility.
This may be weakness, this may be fear.
3 islands
The island soon appeared on the horizon facing the sea, like a black shadow. Although it is difficult to estimate the passage of time, I know that it will arrive in a few days. At this moment, the island is white to me, just like when my husband returned. I didn’t know that there would be an encounter there. The reality made me wake up and pay more attention to the sense of light and fight more resolutely, as if I had to keep my best and highest vigilance when I reached the other side. What does it sound ridiculous? If we’re lucky, can we find a body? Memories of the outside world? We may have false memories, and we used to live a quiet and comfortable life. I have no answer to these questions. I know that the first thing for organisms is to continue to live-breathe, eat, excrete, sleep and mate, and repeat happy life day by day.
I dived into the water with my backpack tight.
People are surrounded by swaying bonfires and wolves are not far away. If you like this story, I am afraid I will be disappointed, because I was not attacked by monsters when I swam to the island. Although I was tired and cold, I easily set up my residence in the abandoned lighthouse on the shore. Over time, I also found enough food, such as fishing and picking wild fruits. I also dug up a tuber, which was tasteless but edible. If necessary, I would set traps to catch small animals or find fruit seeds to cultivate my own garden and make compost myself.
Everything about a lighthouse is more confusing to me than an island. I have always regarded it as a mirror image of a coastal lighthouse-based on the way the light shines on it, it seems to me that it is a joke that is not meaningful but may be cruel. It may be a link in many details, but it can’t help me find a regional answer. The imperfect similarity that the top of the lighthouse has collapsed and the landing of my base is covered with a layer of wet dead leaves may be a clear and powerful symbol.
Later, I gradually explored the lighthouse, nearby buildings and the abandoned town. The whole process was thorough and unified. However, I think the initial survey scope should be wider, covering the whole island, screening threats and looking for food and water, and signs of human life. I don’t have much hope, because there are no signs of recent residence in the lighthouse. This should be the most likely place to live, because other buildings need to be seen at a glance to know that they have been damaged. Once the regional will is imposed on this land, those buildings will rot at an amazing speed. There are also signs of pollution here, just like old scars, but they dissipate too quickly.
The island is 14 miles long, 6 miles wide and 40 miles around, and the area is estimated to be 14 square miles, which is equivalent to more than 50,000 acres. The island is mainly composed of pine trees and oak forests, which extend along the coast to the mainland side, but towards the ocean side. Due to repeated storms, moss and shrubbery can be seen, and there are more fresh water here than I expected. Perhaps it is because of this that, and it can also avoid the storm blowing from the sea. I also found a faucet near the lighthouse, which spit out rusty brown dirty water and finally stabilized. Although it is slightly salty, the slender water still flows
A little further away, I found that there are many alert rabbits in a rich ecosystem, and their numbers are controlled by raptors and foxes. The island foxes are thin and thin. The novels are bred in an isolated environment and adapted to the limited land resources. The number of birds is also rich, such as tree swallows, purple swallows, cuckoos, wrens, woodpeckers, nighthawks-there are too many kinds of waterfowl. Compared with the same prosperous swamp, the birds are louder and more alert.
I wandered around the island for many days, sometimes I had a general understanding of what was on the island, and I cursed the Nanjingju for not having a map while recording the observation results, but I knew that even if there was a map, I would confirm it, and it would take almost the same effort in the end, not only because I didn’t believe in Nanjingju, but also because I didn’t believe in the area. However, after the initial inspection, I couldn’t say anything supernatural, and there was nothing unusual about the island.
Maybe the owl is an exception.
4 owl
Did I find my husband? In a sense, it is, but it is not the form I am familiar with. One evening at the other end of the island, I passed through nettles, shrubs and dense black pine forests with prickly grass, and the wind was blowing and casting a lot of shadows. There was a quiet bay surrounded by a white beach, and the shallow beach extended all the way until it was replaced by dark deep water in the distance. The beach was littered with rocks and collapsed cement columns. A long time ago, it was a pier, and now there are a pile of ruins inhabited by a dozen cormorants.
A dwarf pine tree stands rebelliously on the rock. About one person is tall and dark, and almost all the pine needles have fallen out. Surprisingly, it is a protruding branch with a common horn. The owl has a bunch of protruding hairs on its ears and white feathers on its throat, while its body is miscellaneous gray and brown. I should have scared it when I approached, but the owl still stopped living around the tree in the sun. I felt that this scene was a bit abnormal, so I suddenly stopped.
My owl must be injured. When I continue to approach it, it still doesn’t move, unlike those cormorants who fly away and cling to the water in a string while complaining angrily. Otherwise, the owl would fly away and disappear into the forest, but it is like sticking rough bark and staring at the fading sun, so I believe it is injured even more.
Even when I was near the tree, the owl clumsily piled rocks and didn’t fly, and didn’t even look at me. It was injured or dying, I thought, but I was very cautious and ready to evacuate at any time, because the owl could be a very dangerous animal. Although it was huge and had a medium skeleton and light feathers, it weighed at least four pounds, but so far my trip didn’t stimulate it at all, so I stayed with the owl and waited for the Sun Mountain.
Early in my career, I studied owls, knowing that they are different from other smarter birds and can’t get mental illness. Most owls are also beautiful and have a difficult temperament, but observers often think that it is calm and the beach is very quiet, and I don’t feel dangerous.
At dusk, the owl’s sharp yellow eyes finally looked at me. It spread its wings and swept my cheek, then rose smoothly into the middle and crossed an arc to fly quietly to the forest behind me. It disappeared forever. I believe so. Its strange behavior can be explained in many ways. It is sometimes difficult to distinguish between wildlife eccentricity and regional interference.
I need to find a night shelter. At the end of the west side of the beach, there is a small circle of rocks surrounded by a pile of charred ashes. Someone once made a fire here-it is almost close to the edge of the forest on the tidal line. In the last daylight, I also found an old tent that was wrinkled and weathered and faded by the sun. When someone once lived here for a while, I didn’t dare to think who it would be. I settled down and lit a bonfire to cook and kill rabbits in the afternoon. Then I fell asleep wearily in the waves.
I woke up once in the middle of the night and saw the owl parked my backpack across the fire. It brought me another rabbit. I fell asleep again and when I woke up, it was gone.
I stayed there for three days, and I admit that it was the owl, and because Na Pianhai Bay is almost perfect, it is suitable for a generation to live in. However, I also want to know more about the people who once lived in this tent and lit a bonfire. Although the tent was shabby and old, it was obviously standard, but there was no logo of the South China Bureau.
Not long after I entered the forest behind the tent, I found a pistol distributed by the exploration team with flowers, sedges and moss, which was almost the same as my own. I also found an exploration team-style sweatshirt, and then my coat and socks were scattered all over the place, as if someone had voluntarily discarded them with joy … and it was like being thrown here by others or animals. I didn’t have the god to search them up and rebuild this person’s shell. I knew it was impossible to find a name or a letter. I would never know for sure whether the camper here was my husband or some stranger.
However, the owl always pays attention to me, getting closer and closer to me, but never completely obedient. Sometimes it throws branches at my feet, which seems casual and careless. It also bows to me. It is typical of owls and then ignores me for a long time. Once or twice, it stopped at a place about my height, and I approached tentatively, but it hissed at me and flapped its wings until I retreated. Sometimes it stopped at a high branch, shook its claws back and forth, and then bowed its head blankly.
I continued along the coast, often surrounded by cormorants. I didn’t expect the owl to follow me, but I can honestly say that I was glad that it would follow me until the end of the second weekend. It would eat my hand directly before going out at night. Later, I heard it scream strangely and spiritually-many people thought it was secretive and dangerous, but I always thought it was naughty, like an owl would appear briefly when it approached Lebanon-once its hair tangled like a sand bath.
Inadvertently, an idea seeped into my mind, and then I would be expelled. Is this another form of my husband? Did he recognize me? Or is this owl reacting normally to humans? Other animals here are a little weird, but it doesn’t feel similar-at least I don’t feel it, but my explanation is that maybe I’m used to it, and maybe I have reached a balance with the sense of light, so that such indicators are no longer obvious.
When I made a full circle back to the abandoned lighthouse, the owl still stayed with me, and he sought me less and less. However, in the twilight, he would appear branches outside the lighthouse, so we stayed together. Sometimes he would arrive before evening. If I walked in the dark forest, he would shout loudly to warn me to come, but he wouldn’t come earlier, as if he remembered that I hated abnormal behavior of animals, and he seemed to understand me. Besides, he also had his own business-hunting. However, a week later, his lighthouse was damaged, and the cormorants appeared again. Maybe it wasn’t the same group
During the day, the owl sleeps in the sun, sometimes accompanied by a deep breath. At night, when I fall asleep on the landing, I often hear a faint sound. His wings gently rub and fly to the forest to look for prey. Everything seems possible at the alternation of day and night. I also induce myself to believe that although I don’t like anthropomorphizing animals, I don’t think it is necessary to suppress this communication. Because his strange behavior is a proof that he can understand or not, even if he doesn’t understand that owls pay more attention to sound than humans, I often talk to him just in case he is not as simple as it seems. This is both a common courtesy and a
This may be stupid, but besides, how can I really cross the barrier and see the person I am looking for from him? However, we created a symbiotic relationship of mutual benefit. I continued to hunt while he continued to hunt, but with a little slack, it seemed unintentional-rabbits and squirrels fell from his nest to my house. He said nothing, and everything was based on the most basic law of friendship. In a sense, this arrangement is more effective than all other ways in the outside world. The island still can’t see people, but now I find more evidence that it was inhabited before.
I expected this to be different.
5 Monitor the search team
When I came back from the exploration, with the owl as my companion, I slowly looked at the buildings around the lighthouse in the neighboring area. The distant town must have been abandoned before the area was formed, including a main street and a number of sidewalks that gradually transitioned to dirt roads. The tire prints were full of weeds, and I could be a natural ruler if I wanted to.
"Main Street" is like a facade covered with a lot of messy vines, shrubs, weeds, wild flowers and bushes. Squirrels, badgers, skunks and raccoons occupy the ruins. Osprey destroys the roof and nests. A house or old commercial window glass has shattered and fallen into the window of the pigeon and the elder brother’s dwelling cave. It is full of natural flavor, sweet summer flowers, fresh grass and faint pungent smell of animal logo territory. There seems to be a little accident in it, which makes me feel shocked by the rough traces left by human activities. Previously, I probably won’t be able to shake it off.