One hundred and sixty-seven. Bizarre syndrome (seven)
Belfast's brown sand beach is much inferior to many coastal towns I have visited. For example, the sand is not fine and white, but it is not covered with shellfish debris.
The rain fell like a sketch, and I walked aimlessly on the brown beach where the waves had faded, like a wandering traveler who didn't want to go home.
While the vast ocean repaired my depression, it also increased my loneliness. My exploration of the past gradually deepened, and my regret for leaving the ring in the longhouse became more intense.
I saw a corner of something buried under the gravel, and used my shoes to open it up. It was a wooden board with rivets on it, and I recognized that it must have fallen off a small sailboat. This familiar thing can awaken lost memories.
So I walked along the tide towards Rodeste Port in the distance, hoping that there would be surprises there.
Until I walked under the wooden bridge of Rodster Harbor, I still didn't see any dead fish that had been stranded and washed ashore by the tide. Maybe all the fish in the offshore were extinct, or there was something like myself patrolling every day at this time.
Coast. I hope it's the former, because I don't even have a kitchen knife now, and the shelter is right next to the beach.
Returning to the street from under the bridge, walking across the spacious and empty sturdy bridge, I came to one of the most famous ports in the mainland, Rodster Port. I can imagine how prosperous this place would be before it was abandoned, but now it is only
All that remains is desolation and loneliness.
I didn't climb up the observation deck next to the port, but only explored the workers' dormitory next to it. Unsurprisingly, the place had been raked over and nothing useful could be found. Each of the warehouses lined up could be loaded into a large sailing ship.
But the darkness that chooses and devours people makes me afraid to step in without an oil lamp. And I think the former survivors will not let this place go.
I stayed away from the darkness that symbolized danger and continued along the road deeper into the harbor. I began to see the faded ship pillars on the edge of the harbor and the iron chains hanging from them hanging down into the sea.
I approached the berth next to the ship's pillar and saw a log sticking out of the sea, enduring the waves. I confirmed that it was a mast, and the iron chain extending into the sea also proved this: a sailboat sank here.
I walked to the port and looked at the sea. The dark leaden water blocked my sight, but when I looked along the masts, I seemed to see the masts under the sea, the sailboats lying quietly on the seabed, and the sailors running anxiously on the decks.
The rain was pouring down, and the sailors were hurriedly lowering the sails. From time to time, a sailor on the deck was overturned by the huge waves that hit the hull. He rowed a long way on the slippery deck and was rescued by a rope wrapped around his waist.
"Renner! Renner!" I roared and rushed to an old Pojiao sailor carrying barrels: "Damn it, how many times do you want me to tell you! I don't need you to come out to help in the storm! Now! Here you go.
Me! Get back to the cabin! Monkey, take this old thing back!"
The short crew member jumped out from the side and dragged the old crew member from Pojiao into the cabin. I continued to direct on the deck and saw the sailor who had been knocked down and couldn't get up and went to help despite the strong wind. Then I heard a sound in the strong wind and rain.
"Be careful", I was hit hard, flew out of the boat, and fell into the rough sea.
Wow
Foaming washed over the broken reflection.
Standing at the edge of the port, I took a few steps back, stunned by the previous scene. Was that me before? Was I a crew member?
The ship I was on encountered a storm. I was thrown out of the ship and fell into the sea. Then I lost my memory and drifted to Belfast?
So is my ship here?
I started to raise my head to search the bay, but all I could find was the restless sea surface on a rainy day. What I can imagine is that the abyss-like seabed of this bay must be covered with shipwrecks.
I couldn't let go. Having lost my past memory, I had the urge to go home for the first time in a long time, even though I didn't even know where my home was, and the food for today was not yet available. I had no choice but to continue wandering around Rodster Harbor, hoping to
Find more lost memories or things that can help me find food, such as fishing rods and nets, especially after the feeling of hunger arises.
Rodster Port is big enough, but I can't find what I need here. Wood, steel, and industrial raw materials are piled up like mountains around the warehouse, but neither the survivors who were searched before nor me are interested in them. Really
The only thing that could be used was a bunch of broken fishing nets that were intertwined in the garbage in the corner of the workers' dormitory.
It took me too much time just to untie them, dozens of minutes or an hour? What's worse is that they were thrown in the garbage because the fishing nets had holes everywhere, and there were many holes burned by cigarette butts or soot.
Despite this, I still couldn't bear to throw away the fishing net that I had spent so much time untying. I carried it back to the edge, twirled it and threw it out, watching it sink into the surging seawater, hoping to catch something.
During this period, it rained heavily, and the wind picked up again. There was thunder and thunder on the sea farther away, and the waves almost splashed on my face. I had no choice but to temporarily tie the fishing net to the ship's pillar and hide among the workers.
Sheds, ready to harvest fishing nets as the storm approaches.
The feeling of hunger was not weakened by the wheat grains in the morning, but instead became more intense. I attributed it to the fact that my body was still in need of nutrition and the fight with the charred monster last night consumed too much energy.
However, the storm clouds did not come to Belfast. After a few dozen minutes, the sea surface in the distance returned to calm dark clouds, and even the rain became much lighter. At this time, I keenly noticed that the sky was darker than before, and evening was approaching.
Dismantling the fishing net took longer than expected.
I quickly came out of my hiding place and returned to the shore to pull back the fishing net. At this time, I saw in the distance that it was like the sea level was lowering to reveal the river bed, and a black mountain peak was rising from the sea surface, surging like living creatures. I felt vaguely afraid
, this fear reached its peak when I saw the endless thick fog rising with the black mountains. But hunger drove me
My hands kept moving, but the fishing net seemed to be scratched on something and it didn't move at all. I could only discard the fishing net again and run back to the street. Even afraid of being discovered by the mist presence, I crawled back to the shelter from the back of the coastal street, and went to the shelter again.
I went back to the attic and pressed down the trap door, then hid by the window and blocked the window, leaving only a gap for me to observe the outside world.
I watched the fog swallow up the bay, swallow up the lighthouse, swallow up Rodster Harbor, seal the last gap when the street was about to be swallowed up, and return to the radiant fireplace.
But the walls seemed unable to completely isolate the mist. A veil-like mist rose up from the attic, and the fireplace flame became visibly smaller.
Only after I poured in a bowl of kerosene did the firelight reoccupy the attic.
Then I heard the clatter of chains in the street, the footsteps downstairs, and the knocking on the wall.
I no longer have the courage of yesterday. I anxiously huddle by the fireplace with a wooden stick sharpened from an iron can, waiting for the day to come and the fog to recede. I also hope that the fishing net will catch something and not let the last person in Belfast die.