The storm hadn't hit yet, but the wind had that smell — the kind that made you brace without thinking.
Midas sat behind the counter of a half-dead gas station, thumbing through an old pocket journal with half the pages torn out. A few fading receipts and a business card were tucked inside.
The hum of the freezer buzzed louder than usual.
"You ever wonder if this is it?" he muttered to no one in particular, staring down at the several negative numbers inside his journal. Not like anyone ever walked in after 2 a.m.
The fluorescent lights above him buzzed, then flickered.
His eyes drifted toward the wall clock. The hands had stopped moving. Again. 3:13 a.m., frozen in time.
He stood to reset it, but froze halfway.
Something had changed.
Not the air. Not the lights.
The sky.
Outside the glass, the stars had rearranged themselves. Unmoving. Bright. Too bright.
A hum, low and deep, began to rise from beneath the earth. The fridge doors rattled. The vending machine lit up on its own.
Then... Midas' eyes slowly drifted toward the glass at the front of the gas station.
The shelves around the front rattled, and the glass began to vibrate with a low hum.
Before he had time to even gasp, the glass exploded inward -- but there was no sound. Just silence, like the air had been stolen from the world.
Midas wasn't breathing anymore.
He couldn't move. Couldn't scream.
And then — the lights went black.
Midas couldn't tell if it was he who had closed his eyes, or if the world around him had turned into nothing but pitch-blackness. An infinite void of nothing all around him until the end of the universe.
He waited.
'At least I'm still conscious... able to think. Maybe this means I am still alive.' He thought this initially, but knew that there was no guarantee that he wasn't a spirit right now.
Midas continued to wait. He spent this seemingly infinite time reflecting on whatever he could think of.
Right now, all that was in his mind was the way he had lived his life.
'If I really am dead...' He mused, 'I lived quite the pathetic life.'
He was instantly filled with regret. Why wouldn't he be?
He knew he was a failure in almost all regards. He didn't have a good job or a loving wife, nor did he have any friends to speak of or close relatives that he could talk to, let alone rely on.
What if he had just taken that chance? Quit his job as a mere night-shift gas station worker, and instead start his own business of sorts.
That's how you gained freedom on earth, right? Become a businessman... work for yourself... find success...
But instead of that, Midas found himself drowning in a lake of despair.
Eventually, hours turned to what felt like days, and then weeks.
His mindset went from depressed to worse, and eventually, he even began to get angry. He wasn't angry at his situation, or even the world. He blamed himself. The more faults he found in his life, the more blame he placed on himself.
'Why didn't I do it? Through the tears... the fear. The hardships and failures... maybe I could have made it. Maybe I could have been successful...'
But far bigger than all of that, what he cared about was:
'Maybe... just maybe... I wouldn't have regretted my life so much, even if I failed miserably. At least I would have the balls to say that I tried...'
He stopped thinking, his mind feeling numb and exhausted, like he had nothing else to think of after going through mental loops for months.
Then, he suddenly noticed a salty taste in his mouth...
'Yuck...' He grimaced, the salt drying out his tongue and giving him cotton mouth.
'My mouth feels so dry...' He mused.
.
.
.
'My mouth...'
.
.
.
'My mouth? I have a mouth?' He realized only then... that he had a body.
He could feel a cool breeze touch his face and torso, and he could feel the itchy and rough texture of soaked sand beneath him.
He could hear the crashing of waves, the roar of the wind, and he could smell the ocean breeze.
Finally, his infinite blackness was dominated by a beam of red light that replaced the darkness.
Everything he could see was red... before he opened his eyes.
He was met by a blast of sunlight, forcing him to quickly shield his eyes.
He noticed the cuts on his hand before looking down.
He was naked... butt-naked.
The wind around him smelled so familiar, like a calm ocean gust -- yet so different at the same time. It was sharp... alive.
Midas finally pushed himself up to his feet. His entire body was aching, and he felt a pressure in his chest like he had just swallowed a gallon of water or something.
Despite the pain and discomfort he was feeling, a massive grin was plastered across one side of his face to the other.
As he looked around, all he felt was glee -- mixed with a bit of disorientation.
"I'm on an island." Midas grinned even more. He looked around and surveyed his surroundings further.
The ocean was almost transparent and completely light blue. The waves crashed onto the white-sand shore with foamy white lips.
The sky was even more blue with bright patches of white clouds dominating the sky.
Turning around, Midas noticed the forest behind him -- guarded by a few hundred meters of scarce green shrubbery and palm trees.
It was like he had suddenly woken up on a deserted but tropical island -- one that you would only dream of in fantasy situations.
Looking down at his arm, he noticed a single line surrounding the top of his forearm.
The line was like a tattoo, a mere millimeter in width.
It wasn't black, but rather, blue. And it glowed slightly, as though it could emit light from nothing.
As soon as Midas glanced at this line, a transparent and blue panel appeared in front of his eyes as if it were attached to his retina.
The tab had writing on it that he had never seen before, yet he could somehow understand it all.
He read the text in his mind.
[You are not alone on this island...]
The text simply read.
Midas was confused at first, but his small moment of silent confusion was interrupted by a loud thunder that roared from the distance.
Looking up, he noticed a mountain of giant and dark-gray storm clouds quickly approaching the island.
'Shit... without clothing, that storm will destroy me. And without shelter here on this island, I won't survive the night if I am wet and cold.'
Despite having many questions and doubts still roaming around in his head, Midas began to move.
What just happened to him he couldn't explain, but he didn't have the time to sit back and ponder on it either.
He had to quickly begin looking for some place to shelter from the day, or else he faced impending sickness or worse...