The Dead Island

By Oldsoul Writer- Niharika Dev

Once upon a time, I met a lost soul who treads the land of despair. Her shabby body covered in white sent shivers down my spine. As she turned towards me, I was horrified by her ancient skin and gloomy eyes.

“Ahhh”, I exclaimed in horror and tried to run away. Never did I notice that I was stuck at this place.

Only one wrecked place in all the sand. As I said before, “This was a Dead Island”.

I gulped down my fear and took some deep breaths. “Why am I here?” I asked. But no one was there to cut my silence.

The horrendous appearance pointed towards the deserted house and so I decided to go through.

Within a few steps, I saw “a dark shed with broken steps”. The house smelt of tears and the walls were crooked. Still, I felt some ease in this mess and decided to stay here.

As a few days passed, I noticed all that surrounded my eyes and felt like there was something more than just what belonged there.

On the night of my arrival, I insisted on striking up a conversation between myself and the lady. I inquired, “What is your name? Why do you live like this? Who sent us here?

But her face stood still and she remained silent. I knew that something was wrong. “What am I doing there? What is this place?” In order to know more, I decided to write about my experience.

In the next few days, I observed some uncanny events happening at this place. It turns out the lady was not alone. There was a man who lived in the yard and used to dig sand. Both of them never spoke and were stuck in a regime.

The lady never slept and walked around the house all day. She ate like a monster and watered dead plants. She showed signs of no emotion except a blast of tears that rocked her face all day.

How appalling it may sound, it was a speck in comparison to the presence of that man. The man wore a black dress and his stature was frail. He was afraid to enter the house and always looked away.

Never did he eat or speak to anyone. He only used to sleep and dig up a grave in the ground. However strange they seemed, they tried to hurt me and were busy in their routine.

“This is so absurd”, I remarked, as I noted everything in my diary. But as I went through the pages I wrote, I realised that there was something terribly wrong with me.

I was not feeling hungry anymore nor did I sleep.

I started shaking and cried out aloud. “Where am I? If this is a dream, I want to get out?”

And then it happened! I woke up in a panic on a hospital bed. It turns out I was in a coma for the last one year.

As my mind came back to reality and sensed no danger, my family reminded me of what happened last year.

On the 29th of February 2013, I was at the lowest point in my life. Having been on medication for many months, I still felt like a burden. I thought that there was no purpose for my life and even a little thought about my future made me feel anxious. Tired by my own self, I decided to end it all. I climbed up to the roof of a building and ended my life.

And I genuinely believed “it was the end”. Perhaps, it wasn’t. As I woke up today, I realised it was just a pause.

It took me some time to comprehend what happened during this one year. However, now I know what actually happened. When I went into a coma, what I saw was more than just a dream.

It was me and my reality. I now know the names of those two presences who haunted me. The lost soul was the part of me stuck in the “past” and the anxious spirit was the “future” me.

The part of me that lived in the past reflected how I loved to live in past memories as it watered dead plants. My depressed self always weeps and eats to relieve agony.

On the other hand, my anxiety made me feel fearful of the future. I remember I used to say “I won’t be able to make it in life” and imagined scenarios that may never happen. So the man was always busy digging up sand as my anxiety was digging a grave for me.

You may still call it a dream, but for me, it was my destiny. It made me realise I never lived in the present. I spent all my life in a place where living was as horrible as being dead. I was alive but my mind was living on the “dead island”

So I decided to escape and redefine my life and I hope you too will find the strength to be free from your fragmented reality.

By Oldsoul Writer- Niharika Dev