The Island of Last Truth by Flavia Company, Laura McGloughlin
Authors: Flavia Company, Laura McGloughlin
Ads: Link
anything from sailing alone it is how to fall asleep quickly, anywhere, and for short bursts.
He looks at the other man, still awake, and it all seems monstrously natural. Perhaps it was the whisky, which has made them a little too relaxed.
He raises his head and recognizes the stars. Betelgeuse, Rigel, Bellatrix. Sirius, Aldebaran. The seven sisters. And Castor and Pollux. He has always liked the names of the stars. And by guiding himself more by the stars than the compass. Despite having to change the guiding star every so often, as the situation developed and changed. I will not see them from this island any more, he thinks without nostalgia. In a few days all this will all be over and he will be another man.
6.
And this is the point I wanted to get to, Phoebe,â Dr. Prendel confessed while we were moving with a tailwind towards the port. âYou will forgive my circling around it for so long. You probably think I am a monster. But you must understand me. You must understand me. Only you can. I know I should have killed myself the following day, Dr. Westore. I wasnât capable of trusting that man. I betrayed all of my principles. I wasnât capable of respecting human life. And Iâm not going to deny it: it wasnât only fear that I felt; the diamonds also clouded my mind. I figured that, like me, the other man would try to spend the night awake. By the early morning however, I saw that sleep had overtaken him and he was sleeping deeply. I donât remember if I had a momentâs doubt or if the impulse won me immediately. I rose and, little by little, I moved closer to him. Once at his side, I grabbed a weapon with a quick violent movement and I shot him once, decisively. I shot him again, and this time I think he died. He went to sleep with the idea that the next day we would set sail and we would be equal, both of us impossible survivors. I am equally tortured by the idea of having killed him as that of having left him badly injured. Can you imagine?
Moments after the shooting I was already in the lifeboat, rowing out to sea, with my heart thumping from the two things Iâd just done: killed a man and saved myself.
Would you be able to forgive me? I have tried all these years in vain.
It wasnât until many miles later I found his letter. To be precise, his letters. One in English, addressed to me. Another in Portuguese, for his family in Lisbon. The one for his family I am giving to you now, Dr. Westore, so you can get it there. It took me a while to read it; I did so when I met someone who could translate it for me. Everything heâd told me was true. His adventurous spirit, his parentsâ grocery store, his siblings, his love for Cecilia, that sort of kidnapping the pirates had subjected him to, and his desire to escape, the cookâs information. Souza wasnât lying. He was an honest man. Any lie of his would perhaps have made my betrayal more bearable. It is important that you get in contact with his family. Although it may be late, they have to know that their son, their brother is dead. It is a debt I owe them, do you understand?
I destroyed the letter addressed to me. I threw it into the sea instantly, as though it might burn my fingers. He said I would only have found the letter if I had killed him. And if I had killed him, he asked me to make sure the other missive got to his family and he felt sorry for me, because I would never find a way of leaving that island.
And so it was, Dr. Westore. I am still there, trying every day, to take back what I did. How irreparable is death and how different a man is after killing. How well have I seen it. I am happy that the end is coming for me, dear Phoebe, because it will be the only way of ending the guilt.
You must excuse me for not having told you before. But of what would a man like me not be capable? I have despised myself all the days of my life since I climbed into the boat. Iâve wanted to convince myself
He looks at the other man, still awake, and it all seems monstrously natural. Perhaps it was the whisky, which has made them a little too relaxed.
He raises his head and recognizes the stars. Betelgeuse, Rigel, Bellatrix. Sirius, Aldebaran. The seven sisters. And Castor and Pollux. He has always liked the names of the stars. And by guiding himself more by the stars than the compass. Despite having to change the guiding star every so often, as the situation developed and changed. I will not see them from this island any more, he thinks without nostalgia. In a few days all this will all be over and he will be another man.
6.
And this is the point I wanted to get to, Phoebe,â Dr. Prendel confessed while we were moving with a tailwind towards the port. âYou will forgive my circling around it for so long. You probably think I am a monster. But you must understand me. You must understand me. Only you can. I know I should have killed myself the following day, Dr. Westore. I wasnât capable of trusting that man. I betrayed all of my principles. I wasnât capable of respecting human life. And Iâm not going to deny it: it wasnât only fear that I felt; the diamonds also clouded my mind. I figured that, like me, the other man would try to spend the night awake. By the early morning however, I saw that sleep had overtaken him and he was sleeping deeply. I donât remember if I had a momentâs doubt or if the impulse won me immediately. I rose and, little by little, I moved closer to him. Once at his side, I grabbed a weapon with a quick violent movement and I shot him once, decisively. I shot him again, and this time I think he died. He went to sleep with the idea that the next day we would set sail and we would be equal, both of us impossible survivors. I am equally tortured by the idea of having killed him as that of having left him badly injured. Can you imagine?
Moments after the shooting I was already in the lifeboat, rowing out to sea, with my heart thumping from the two things Iâd just done: killed a man and saved myself.
Would you be able to forgive me? I have tried all these years in vain.
It wasnât until many miles later I found his letter. To be precise, his letters. One in English, addressed to me. Another in Portuguese, for his family in Lisbon. The one for his family I am giving to you now, Dr. Westore, so you can get it there. It took me a while to read it; I did so when I met someone who could translate it for me. Everything heâd told me was true. His adventurous spirit, his parentsâ grocery store, his siblings, his love for Cecilia, that sort of kidnapping the pirates had subjected him to, and his desire to escape, the cookâs information. Souza wasnât lying. He was an honest man. Any lie of his would perhaps have made my betrayal more bearable. It is important that you get in contact with his family. Although it may be late, they have to know that their son, their brother is dead. It is a debt I owe them, do you understand?
I destroyed the letter addressed to me. I threw it into the sea instantly, as though it might burn my fingers. He said I would only have found the letter if I had killed him. And if I had killed him, he asked me to make sure the other missive got to his family and he felt sorry for me, because I would never find a way of leaving that island.
And so it was, Dr. Westore. I am still there, trying every day, to take back what I did. How irreparable is death and how different a man is after killing. How well have I seen it. I am happy that the end is coming for me, dear Phoebe, because it will be the only way of ending the guilt.
You must excuse me for not having told you before. But of what would a man like me not be capable? I have despised myself all the days of my life since I climbed into the boat. Iâve wanted to convince myself
Similar Books
