your eyes flutter open. You’re half in the ocean, your face in the sand. Your hair has recovered its natural curls from the hours spent in the salt water. There are cuts on your stomach, down your legs. You’re drenched. You don’t know how you got here, where you are. You look up and see a girl. She can’t be any older than you, with honey hair in a braided plait and a beautiful, white tunic on her body. She has flowers in her hair, and is looking down at you with concern. Then she speaks.

“My name is Calypso. Welcome to my island.”