The first thing I notice is that my entire body hurts, and different parts hurt in different ways. My head has a pounding ache, my lungs sting like I swallowed 10 gallons of water, and my limbs... Actually, I can't feel my limbs at all. My brain doesn't seem to be working too quickly, but I try to puzzle out what could leave me feeling like sore dead weight. Unfortunately, I can't think of anything.
The second thing I notice is that my eyes have been open for a few seconds (minutes?) and I've been looking upwards. My view of the sky is obstructed by a woman who's standing right behind my head, leaning down towards me with a petite smile painting her face. Even though her head is upside-down I can tell that she's absolutely beautiful. She's got dark brown skin with orange lines painted on below her eyes — I've never seen women put on make-up like that before, but it's stunning. Her eyes are stunning too, a shocking shade of bright orange that looks totally natural, even though she must be wearing colored contacts. Her hair is arranged into an asymmetrical Afro of sorts. I haven't seen that before either, but combined with her make-up it looks pretty futuristic.
"Hello, Ricardo. I'm glad you woke up." The woman is speaking English, but she has an accent that I can't place. It reminds me of Spanish a tiny bit, but it's not anything like the way my family speaks.
"Woke up," I echo. So I was asleep? But why? Finally, a useful memory rises to my mind's surface. I was sailing, and then I wound up in a bad storm, and then I capsized. I must have washed up on a beach somewhere. "I'm glad too. Wait, how do you know my name?"
The woman giggles, a tinkling sound that makes me feel warmer somehow. "Because I'm the sun. I've been watching you for a while."
I don't feel strong enough to stand up yet, so I tilt my head to the side so I can see past the woman's head. The sun is still there, partially obscured by clouds but exposed just enough to make my eyes burn. I shut them and hiss. "Ow!"
The woman giggles again and sits down next to me, then carefully sits me up. Her touch is warm too, comfortingly so. Somehow my pain seems to fade away. "You're confused about the orb up there, right? That's me too, but I made a humanoid body for myself so I could talk to you."
I fight the urge to look up at the sun again. Instead I squint at the woman's face, trying to comprehend her words. According to her, the sun, the star at the center of the solar system, is also a living, breathing person, and for some reason she's been watching me. I ask her if that understanding is correct, and she nods.
"But why? And how? Are you magic?"
"I'll start with the how. Yes, I'm magic. Everything is, really. Not just you."
"Oh, so you know about..." I raise a finger and beckon towards the ocean. A ball of water rises from it and forms a slowly swirling disc around my finger. A tiny bit of seaweed and a couple of tiny shells are suspended in it. If I wanted, I could make a decently large wave, or even calm the ocean's bumpy waters a bit — a skill that apparently wasn't enough to save my boat from capsizing. "This? I thought I was the only one who had magic. I mean, I know there are others out there, but I hadn't met anyone else like me before."
"I know a lot about you. You're from Jersey City, and you're a weather man on the local news. You're Argentinian and American, and you spend your free time watching clouds and sailing. And your birthday's coming up soon, right?"
"Yep. August thirtieth." For a split second I wonder if it's wise to tell an all-knowing stranger my birthday, but then I decide it doesn't matter. Everything else she said was completely accurate; if she didn't learn my birthday today, she'd figure it out on her own eventually. I point upwards and ask, "You figured all that out from all the way up in the sky?"
"I can see everything my light touches. When it's daytime, I gaze down at the earth and watch the humans go about their day."
"Which brings us back to the why, right? Why'd you pay so much attention to me in particular?" I wouldn't call myself boring, but I don't know if I'm special enough to warrant this much attention from the sun herself.
"It's a long story, but right now it's because we can help each other." The sun points past me, to my left. "Have you noticed your boat yet?"
I look in that direction and see that my boat has also washed up, and she's in much worse condition than I am. The hull has a massive hole in it, and [boat issues]. I run up to her and run a hand along the damaged hull. My lip trembles, and it's only a matter of seconds before tears roll down my cheeks and leave little craters in the sand. I'd had her for over ten years, and in all that time she'd hardly suffered so much as a scratch. How did I mess up so badly? I'm not a bad sailor, right?
The sun pats me on the back. "It's painful to look at, right? I can fix it for you—"
"Please!" I whirl around and rattle her shoulders. She's wearing a bright orange tennis dress fashioned after a tank top, and her soft skin is warm too; it feels like I'm clutching a loaf of bread.
"Don't worry. I will, as long as you get something done for me." Upon seeing me furrow my eyebrows a bit, she adds, "It'll be easy. You can get it done by the end of the day."
I nod hurriedly. I'd do anything to fix my boat at this point. "What do I have to do? Bring you something?"
"You're sharp! Okay, here's the assignment." The sun points behind me and the boat. "Further south, and inland somewhat, a group of people are holding a festival. A woman who is magical like me will be there. Her hairstyle is very distinctive: it's arranged into little golf-ball sized knots across her head. You'll know her when you see her. I want you to approach her and pluck two of the knots from her head, then give them to me."
I'm nodding along until I hear the word "pluck". "Huh? Wouldn't that hurt? I know my head would hurt if someone plucked my hair." I run a hand along my closely cropped hair, kept short to look professional. I wonder if there are any barbers on this island.
"We're a different type of magic than you. It takes a lot more than that to hurt her."
I take another look at the sun's hairstyle. It doesn't seem quite as pluck-able, but... "So if I pulled some of your hair out right now it would be okay?"
"Stay focused, Ricardo," she reminds me, although she doesn't sound bothered. She begins walking along the beach and motions for me to follow her. I notice that she's a good ten inches shorter than me, hovering around five feet. Even so, she's a fast walker. "This woman will probably be focused on the festivities, but there's a chance she will notice what you're trying to do. If that's the case, I want you to use this on her."
The sun pauses to take a small, obsidian-dark jewelry box of sorts out of... Somewhere. She doesn't appear to have pockets. She presses the box into my hand and continues, "Remember when you looked up at the me in the sky, and the strong light hurt you? This box contains a sliver of that light. If the woman sees it, she'll become disoriented and you'll have no trouble finishing the job." She promptly resumes walking, and I'm grateful that my legs are long enough that I can keep up. This is a lengthy beach, and I can't tell where it ends, or if it ends at all. To our left is a thick forest, and layers of harmonious birdsong flow from its branches.
I tamp down my curiosity enough to keep myself from opening the box. It's too big to fit into my jeans' pockets (which I now realize are empty; my wallet and keys must have been lost to the ocean), so I turn it around in my hands and try to wrap my head around it. I don't read comics often, but I'm reminded of the classic line that Uncle Ben said to Peter Parker: "With great power comes great responsibility." The light in this box must be powerful, but what's responsible about using it to steal someone's hair?
"Why do you want me to steal—"
"Borrow," the sun urges. "She'll get her knots back eventually."
"Oh, okay. Why do you want me to borrow her knots? What if it hurts her feelings?"
We come to a stop at a dirt path that is wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. It leads into the forest, snaking around wide-trunked trees and roots that poke aboveground. There's a wooden signpost that I assume is marking the entrance, but I don't know for sure because I can't read it. It's written in a language that I just don't recognize. The sun takes my hands, her grip surprisingly firm, and effortlessly pulls me down to my knees so that we're nearly eye level. She doesn't let go as she says, "Look at me, Ricardo. I know this is an incredibly disorienting experience for you. You're on a foreign island without your boat, or any way to contact your family."
This close to her face, I can see that the tiny veins in her eyes are yellow-orange instead of red. Does she not have red blood? Is orange her real eye color? Now that I think about it, the orange lines on her cheeks seem like they're her natural skin color, not makeup. Her eyes are miniature suns, I realize, tiny self-portraits of herself.
"I know that you have many more questions, and you deserve answers, but I don't want to overwhelm you even further. I promise that I'll tell you everything once you help me, okay?"
I gulp and consider my situation. I definitely want to get my boat fixed and go back home as soon as possible. The real question is what I'm willing to do to achieve that. I still have some reservations about the sun's plan, but I don't know what other options I have. Perhaps the people on this island could help me, but if their spoken language is anything like the one on that signpost, trying to communicate with them will be a struggle. Not to mention, I'd feel bad if I didn't help such a pretty lady. So I nod, say okay, and begin my trek into the forest. After a few steps I notice the sun doesn't follow me. "Aren't you coming, too?"
She shakes her head. "I cannot. It's safer for me to be in brightly lit areas."
The tree leaves are rather thick, enough to make the path dim even though the sun is high in the sky. "Oh, I guess that makes sense. Gotta stay connected to the orb in the sky, right?"
"Yes," she says, but I swear she falters for a bit, like she's trying to hold back a larger smile. "Goodbye, Ricardo." With that, she vanishes before my eyes, leaving behind nothing but her footprints in the sand and a few wisps of yellow smoke.