The Route, the Pencil and the paper

Shearwaters, Crows and Wolves.

Fiction

The blow of a shearwater on my chest woke me up. I opened my eyes and saw a thousand stars, I remembered where I was and I wondered if it was something from the place, if that dream was related to my friends dreams by a collective energy.

I didn't want to sleep anymore, so I decided to get up and not put on my slippers. I needed to feel the ground I was stepping to connect with the earth as well as with the sky who will illuminate my next steps.

I went to the furthest ravine by a different and higher trail on the island. I went slowly but not that much, I already knew the way.  The drums' sound made me feel lost in a futuristic Europe that has been turned into a desert by a virus. They gave the perfect sound to that part of the tour.

Suddenly she appeared, who has me trapped by her eyes that say more than her words. And in a silence of a few seconds I couldn't stop looking at her, look by look. I liked her and it bothers me not being able to interpret what is behind it, it seems like a great message.

I continued my course and I felt closer and closer. Of what, I don't know. A black cat appeared in front of me, with a meow it seemed to guide me and I followed.

I got to the top of a cove, up the ravine and under a huge rock. The tabaibas covered me from who could see me. I leaned back and the cat did it next to me.

I closed my eyes and as soon as I did, I saw them. Those who are, those who were and perhaps those who will be. It was not like they are in the daytime, they manifested by inverting their aspects as creatures and animals. There were dogs, cats, wolves, crows, lizards, and many others. All dancing and singing in masks and costumes.

Among them, only one caught my attention, a huge, wrinkled turtle with an old shell. It was walking slowly around the fire. In her slow walk she whispered, she was too far away for me to hear her but oddly enough I could.

-We can all be together, but living in the same place does not make us one. The interest in the banal makes false relationships and separates us.- With a raspy voice and slow steps that turtle that turned and turned slowly around the fire was expressed.

I thought her words were true, relating her wrinkles with wisdom.

She continued walking around, until the fire took force and gave light, letting me see her face and wrinkles better, there she whispered again;

 -A superior force brought us to this moment, we will probably never have another chance.  To find ourselves in a situation that forces us to change. Give or receive, listen or speak, us or me.

Days later I was walking along the beautiful pebble beach, when I saw among the rocks between the force of the tide an animal floating that seemed dead. 

With the tide it approached abruptly while we waited to see what was between the foam and the waves. One of those people who appeared as wolves in the dream took it out and said;  "Man, this is worth a fortune."

I approached and between the smell of a rotten animal, I saw her.  With its guts scattered among the stones and her broken shell, the huge and magnificent turtle of my dream, dead.

I went towards the solitude that leads you one of the longest trails. A huge confusion was born in me. What happened to the turtle?  Did she pass away learning as a superior being or was she murdered for the intentions of her words?