Island of Bliss
He wasn’t attentive to the ship anymore. He was looking around the shore. Something
was entirely familiar to him. A very peaceful and deep silence covered the hills basking in the
midday sun. To the other side of the harbor, he could see a lighthouse, white as chalk and
painted with blue stripes. It stood there, like a testimony of the unending tranquility of the
island. He imagined the ships it would beacon at night, as he could see wooden little boats
tied afloat in the long hours of dozing in the summer heat, just hearing the tide swishing back
and forth, awakening tiny creatures. The warm gentle temperature seemed to make everything
float around in undisturbed stillness. Even the white clouds above were slowing down to doze
off, dissipating effortlessly, as if enjoying the hour.
“Hey, hey, what do you know!” someone exclaimed and he saw a bright figure coming
down the hill, toward the shores.
It was a man, dark haired and wearing a moustache, speaking in a friendly manner, with
fast gestures and quick restless eyes. His sharp profile cut through the air, as he skipped the
stairs and hopped on the shore. He seemed mature enough to know his way around, but not
old enough to keep his childlike sly attitude in check. His eyes were sparkling so intensely, as
if he didn’t miss anything.
“They told me we would have new visitors today, but I wasn’t expecting such an
adventure boy like yourself”, he smiled, extending a hand to Ramos. “I’m Frankie, the island
Ramos shook his hand. His powerful grasp made the other man stare at him with
“Are you working out a lot?” he grinned under his moustache.
Ramos noticed that the slender restless man was dressed extravagantly in a bright
costume, made of white leather, adorned with sparkling pieces of metal and diamond-like
ornaments. He was wearing a dazzling belt and his tight trousers were white too, similar to the
color of the stones on the shore, as if the waves and the storms had washed him in time, along
with everything else around. He looked like a ballet figure, yet there was something
mysterious in his attitude, something he was keeping to himself. Ramos felt safe enough in his
presence to have the conversation flowing.
“I’m from Arizona”, he stated briefly and casually, “but my folks say I have some
distant ancestor from around here. I’ve finally come to see where my roots spring from.
Otherwise, I’m just a student on vacation. This looks like a fabulous place.”
“The best there can be on earth, trust me!”
Frankie grabbed the voyage bag.