The story's setting is on a large, lightly inhabited island-- Hibiscus, as the people called it, named after the bright seaside bloom. Only a few families live in the area, and every human knows each other. Majestic, soft white sand beaches envelope the land's lush green grass, and lively turquoise seas wrap another final layer. Beneath the surface, fish and coral of every color imaginable swim joyfully, undisturbed. The oceans here are no competition the cleanest in the world. Unique shells line the beaches under the patterned shade of wide palm leaves. Seagulls, with their white and blue-tinted feathers stretched fly low, squawking and hunting for food. Mountains and hills rise towards the north end, some short and rather lumpy, some rising high and proud, snow-covered peaks scraping against the clouds. Forests of hundreds of types of trees cover the rest of the area. Their year-round leafy canopies create an abstract masterpiece ranging in a palette of soft mint green to an almost-black hue, with everything in between. Weather on the island is always picture perfect. Blue skies bound high above, the shades ever changing. Fluffy clouds roll lazily through, pure white, never gray or heavy with rain. The sun shines every hour of the day, breezes adding a contrast to temperature. At night, the skies turn a regal navy blue, millions of stars shining clearly in the aura of moonlight. The weather at the time of your story is just the same as every day, and rather boring, at that. The paradise, at a first glance, seems to be the perfect destination for any tourist wandering the world, but the location is unknown and refuses to make an appearance on modern-day maps. The residents are rather miserable, most of them live on the island unwillingly. With a first step on the island, one is bound to stay there for eternity. Perhaps that's why being on Hibiscus brought down such a lonely, silent sadness. Where there should have been the sound of children playing, and hundreds of voices deep in conversation along the shore, there is only soft silence, interrupted with the crashing of waves. Only the rustle of nature, and the symphony of your own thoughts ringing against an empty theatre, curtains down and auditorium holding no audience. The air of Hibiscus lingered with bittersweet floral perfume, as if the island wished to be recognized as much as it's people, to let the world know, "hey, we exist." [409 words]
