It is black then my eyes flicker to life, the bright white sands fill my head, my senses spring to life. My head aches only a moment, I feel I have been asleep my eternity and now awake unto a heaven of crashing waves. I am outside of a dream yet lie filled with the sand unable to move, a weight I carry in my arms, my torso, my head and legs. I am unable to move, water crashing upon my feet cooling the suns blistering waves seem poetic and nessessary.

Blackness

My eyes again see what they must have first dismissed an I realize where I am, or at least where I must be by deduction I am not in bed.

It is days maybe hours or seconds before I am able to move, lifting myself in to the stiff legged man I once was. I feel fresh, renewed yet empty and sweat drained, I know I can not drink the water, but how did I come to inhabit such a place. I break for the shade of a palm, I take in the environment. I am unclothed, with little protection from the sun, a beautiful white sandy beach surrounds me on all side as far as my eyes are able to focus, I am on an island, but am I alone? 

I attempt a yell "Hello" yet my voice is weak and I only manage a meek squeal. 

I need water but know the ocean is filled with salts and is undrinkable, I look up, around me, to find a coconut or fruit barring bush to quench my desire. This is how they survived in movies and books I have read. I see what may be my salvation just beyond the small ridge.

My arms and back are terribly burnt from exposure yet i walk freely back into the blistering heat to attempt the thirty feet required to reach the bush. If it grows here there must be fresh water I rationalize, a glinting reflection radiates from beneath the glossy fronds. I lift a branch and find what appears to be a leather bound journal inscribed with the letters W.I.S.H. and the scratched in by hand the words 'book of answers'. There must be more like me on this island. I look around and see no one. 

I throw open the journal, blank, none of the pages have been used. a pen falls into my lap as I come to the inscription on the inside cover. I am hot and tired, I carry the notebook back to the shade and read aloud to warm wind singing through the fronds above.

“You have always been alone

You need this book, it is your only salvation, it is connected to everything you are and will become

I am the book

I will grant you everything you desire, simply write inside and it will be true.”

Not questioning I write fresh water in large black print across the first page.

From the leather bound pages appears to me an exhaustive illustration, a compass, a needle pointing SE, but which way is north? I turn the book and the needle corrects.

I follow the book beyond the protection of the palm, a small hill then a dip down and a tiny spring wells into a fountain sized pool. I cup my hands under its moist drench and lift the cup to my mouth, FRESH! I drink my fill then some more to be certain; the book is closed again and blank. I open to the center and scribe clothes please, the book does nothing, I shake it roughly, the sun burns and I am desperate my feet are warm then cool as I attempt to sit on a rock to figure what I did wrong. The rock is covered with a long cotton robe. Looking down I mouth the words THANK YOU! I place the robe on my back and feel its cooling effect immediately. 

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Author guidance for This story

RULE 1- Your wishes are perpetual and can not be undone RULE 2- No time or place, no person flesh shall exist beyond what your eyes can rest RULE 3- Three is the number you may include, use them well and choose them wisely refer to rule #1 RULE 4- Money is worthless and will be treated as such RULE 5- Food will feed you if you feed the land, all else will parish unto the sand. RULE 6- Wish not for a mountain when you can only walk a hill RULE 7- You can not escape the man who is an island

updated Mar 1 '09 by wickedmirror