Time

      A tempest was I in. my lack of care caused me to impinge the deck of out ship. I was unconscious. . . . . .

      During my absence, I dreamt. I dreamt of the escapades that I had in my sea voyages; I dreamt of the adventures that I had yet to undertake; I dreamt even the accomplishments that I will participate in. . . . . .

      I recovered from the real of dreams and found myself in a foreign place. I was lying on a soft bed in a relatively small but tidy shack. As I assessed the hut, a figure entered the wooden door and was revealed as an average looking woman f my age. She looked at me with impersonal eyes, ‘Ah, you are awake? You have been sleeping for 2 days now.’

      Aloofly, I answered her remark with a nod. Suddenly, I was reminded of my crew by a feeling of consciousness. I desired to start a search for my crew at once! It seemed that the lady understood my uneasiness, ‘Rejuvenate yourself. Your weariness allows you no act but self-torture.’ With her somewhat enchanting voice, my limbs tired and I rested once more.

      The brilliant sunlight finally broke through the mist of the dark night; I rose without delay. A search was conducted jointly with my saviour. She spoke little for long. So little that it bewildered, yet worried me. Our expedition yielded no success. We repeated our act the day after, and the day after that, and so forth, but all efforts were in vain. Ultimately, with a burdened heart, I stopped. I ceased to have faith in locating my crew.

      Time raced by and halted not. Weeks had passed and I found myself able to commune with my saviour without difficulty. She revealed herself as a sociable, reticent, yet charming soul. Time affected more than age, and our relationship became more intimate. W enjoyed each other’s company, we communicated with ease, but all I knew of her origin was that she was orphaned during her childhood.

      Months had passed and the anniversary of my shipwreck drew near. I had lived a mundane life together with my companion since my ship succumbed to the battering sea. I was reminded of my adventures, the exhilaration of my former life style, and the dream before I met my companion. Yes, my companion . . . though the idea of leaving my companion gave a sense of flaw in me, I decided to leave, and live a life of fervour!

      After much consideration, I discussed with my companion about my will to depart. She responded to my remark with silence. We exchange a long gaze with conflicting feeling, and she said, ‘I lived on loneliness for more than half of my life and the only person that I had met after so long want to leave? Do you know not of my sufferings?’ she addressed her reply in a distant and obscure manner. I offered her to leave, my escort to the outer world! Yet again, silence was the answer given. I felt sorrow for her unusual response, but I regarded her reaction as of not much importance.

      I left for my homeland, though I knew not the way, I was given guidance by passing vessels. I left for an adventurous life that I once had, I left and disregarded the unofficial offer of my companion to stay and live a simple life with her. Somewhere in my heart, I felt I was given a penalty for that decision: a penalty of ‘Time’. I lived longer than most and I saw more and more that are dear to me summoned by Death; they left me as I did her; I was to witness and to bear the sufferings of loneliness; I was to live, alone. I was given the punishment of life.

      Was I to see her and tell my tale of loneliness? After decades of separation, I went in search of my companion. As I stood in front of the ever familiar hut that once accommodated me, I thought of her sufferings; our sufferings; about her; about us.

I reminded myself, where I was; and where I should have been. I thought of what had; what might have been. And I asked: What will become?

Eow Ian