Icelandic stories 3 – Michał

obeMichał Zieliński

John woke up sitting on a see-saw. Slowly he took a look at the surrounding. He was on a playground funnily small in comparison to the snowy mountains’ peaks. Actually the whole vicinity reminded John of a toy set – gorgeous, yet full of clichés. Nevertheless it wasn’t the naive look that annoyed the man the most. It was the temperature. John stood up knowing the importance of not losing the heat. He had to move and search for help. He decided to go downhill, along the road to reach visible houses. All of them were empty, as if they were only designed to be admired from distance. Near the dock behind the buildings there wasn’t anybody as well. The dock could be visited only by one ship at the time. It could, but there was nothing there. Having used up all the options he decided to go in the opposite direction. As time passed he recalled some information about the island. There used to be a harbour, but not anymore. As he was walking, he heard voices of ancient inhabitants. They were in the air above these fields. John could see faded silhouettes of these households. It was getting harder and harder to keep on going. Luckily he saw a building where he could spent some time in the warm. He was walking more slowly than before. The pebbles were making noise when the man was moving his feet. Finally he reached the door with inscription: <>. John heard tweeting coming from everywhere. At first John hadn’t seen anything. Suddenly the pebbles spread wings and started chasing the man. He had to jump from one clump to another. He stumbled a few times but didn’t stop. When he reached the ocean, he jumped into it. It was freezing. John woke up.