Green Light
The lake shimmered in the midnight twilight. Her boat cut gently through the water, leaving a wake reflecting the patterns of starlight behind her. The lake appeared to stretch endlessly in each direction.
Her hands dangled over the edge as she laid down in boredom, her fingertips lightly glancing the water, the light of distance stars in her eyes.
It'd been 30 days since she headed on this bearing. It'd been roughly 2000 days since she'd woken up. Each day the same as the last. The same water, the same sky, the same boat. But still she sailed on. The dream of escaping through a break in the distance kept her going, although the dream was beginning to fade.
She absently watched the silhouette of the bird circle high above her. She had long since given up wondering why it followed her. Was it protecting her? Waiting for her to die? Perhaps it was trapped here too, hoping it's salvation could be found in her.
Sorry to disappoint you, she thought.
She used to wonder how it fed itself. Not once had it diverted course. But then she didn't seem to need to eat either, so why would the bird? Nothing made sense in this place.
She turned on her front, her cheek pressed against the chrome edge of the boat's starboard side, her long, silken hair dragging in the current. Gazing at her dimly lit reflection in the water, distorted by the ripples of the wake, she wondered again whether she existed at all. Was this really her face she was looking at? High cheekbones draped with supple skin, bright wide eyes that belie the emptiness within. It doesn't seem like her. Was there a "her" before this place? She's bored of endlessly wondering these things.
Her eyes grow tired. She gives in and drifts away.
She wakes a moment later, suddenly blinded. Is it already dawn? Her eyes regain focus. No, it's still dark. But through the ripples something bright reflects into her eyes. A light. Green light. She looks up and sees the pulsating orb floating towards her.