Title: The Island of Forgotten Dreams
A warm wind swept across the deck as Elira opened her eyes. The sea sparkled under the morning sun, stretching endlessly in every direction. She had spent ten days on this small sailboat, guided by nothing but an old map and the last words her grandfather had whispered before he died: "Find the Island of Forgotten Dreams."
To most, it was a myth — a tale for children, a bedtime story to comfort broken hearts. But to Elira, it was the only thing that made sense anymore. Life in the city had left her hollow. Her job, her apartment, her so-called friends — they all felt like shadows of a life she never truly wanted. So she left it behind. All of it.
On the eleventh morning, just as the sky was beginning to turn lavender with the rise of the sun, Elira saw it. A faint outline on the horizon. As she drew closer, the island came into focus — tall cliffs hugged by lush green forests, white sands kissed by turquoise waves, and the sound of a thousand birds calling her home.
She anchored the boat and stepped onto the beach. The sand was warm and soft, like flour. Strange flowers bloomed in colors she couldn’t name. And in the distance, she saw something even stranger: a path, carefully carved, leading into the forest. It was too deliberate to be natural.
As Elira followed the path, memories began to rise in her mind. Not just hers — but memories that felt ancient, shared, as if the island itself whispered them into her bones. A child’s laughter. A song long forgotten. A tear that never fell. Every step forward felt like walking deeper into her own soul.
At the heart of the island stood a stone archway, overgrown with ivy. Words were etched across its surface in a language she didn’t recognize, yet somehow understood: “Here live the dreams the world forgot.”
Beyond the archway, the island transformed. Trees glowed with bioluminescent light, and the air shimmered like stardust. And there, sitting beneath a tree, was a boy — no older than twelve — drawing pictures in the dirt.
He looked up at her. “You finally came,” he said.
Elira blinked. “Do I know you?”
“I’m the dream you left behind,” he said. “When you chose to grow up, you forgot me. But I waited.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. She remembered now — a dream she had when she was young. A dream to be an explorer, to discover hidden places and forgotten magic. But life had gotten in the way, as it often does.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
The boy smiled. “It’s never too late. You remembered enough to find me. That’s all that matters.”
They sat together for hours, rediscovering pieces of Elira’s forgotten self. Laughter echoed through the trees, and colors danced in the air. For the first time in years, Elira felt whole.
When she finally returned to her boat, the island behind her shimmered in the golden light of dusk. She didn’t need to stay. The island had given
