The Isle of Gold
Published by Nick Hayden at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Nick Hayden
Smashwords Edition, License Note
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I woke, by degrees, to discover my face in the sand. Slowly, lest I found myself unfit to rise and fell again into the same position, I raised my head and struggled to sit. The effort did not cause me my consciousness, though my vision dimmed for a moment. My limbs worked clumsily. I could not open my eyes beyond a squint. The sun was indescribably bright. For a long time I sat in this state, my mouth working with ponderous intent, like a bovine's, until I discovered that I chewed sand and spit it out. It was a feeble effort. The sand was barely damp as it left my mouth. The act and the sight inexplicably reminded me of a dream I had had before I woke. It had been a pleasant dream, with a banquet, and in the banquet had been set a table that bowed beneath the weight of sumptuous food and casks of wine.
In time, I found I could open my eyes more fully. I began to take in my surroundings. The sun danced upon the sand—a million flecks of purest gold. I took a handful in my fist, let it drain through my fingers. I had voyaged into these waters in search of gold; not just of gold—in search of jewels and artifacts and goblets and weapons and rings and maidens and adventures. I could barely think of those dreams now. I could not swallow. I had no saliva.