Isolation, loneliness and the twilight vultures

She moved a lock of her hair away from her face. It was distracting her while writing and examining the written text. She had to explain what progress has the expedition come to and what is the near future agenda using easily readable forms and reports that had to be completely accurate and painfully detailed, all based on her sleepless nights consumed in checking and crosschecking personal and official testimonies that were handed down to her on a regular basis, following a strict schedule.
They said that science is the on-going force that is pushing them ever so further, but she sincerely doubted every word coming from their office because it was stuffed with the matter that houses lies in their purest form.
It was humid. Sometimes she would lift her head and look through the window; the ship was docked in the sea cove. A giant glider, master ship makers peak of craftsmanship. A special thing indeed. How could he have sold his effort, something so beautiful, for a ordinary sack holding gold and jewels? Are they now a comfort for his soul?

Every time it enters her view field, she feels a little bit safer. Every time the sun licks the half naked siren with her hands spread wide on the ships bow, eyes tend to close and sleep long and sleep hard.
In a few months from now, that glider shall take her home. At least, it’s what she has been told.
The work was hard. The ones that refused to take the long hours were abandoned on the abundant amount of little no-name islands that have taken our attention while passing by. Places like that were from nightmares to the modern man, the vegetation green and dark, holding secrets in its vestibule mind of the time that there were no humans or animals or islands or life even. Evil things happen there as soon as the first glimpse of dusk shows its face.
The heat becomes an unforgiving enemy and the sand beach a colony of apparitions. Right next to the wide ocean there are creatures coming together. They live on the horizon during the day, and crawl the beach during the night. Vultures that don’t leave anything behind.

She was saved from being a mere slave by her knowledge of reading and writing.
The sea was blue. And the thought of jumping right in enticing. But it would be a most horrible mistake taken.
The big blue is filled with predators.
The land is as well. She is forced to stay inside of her well-protected cabin, wondering which part of her is a slave and which is not. Her freedom of movement was limited, for the sake of safety. They needed her. As long as she keeps writing down the mindless info. If anytime she would refuse to do that, there would be nothing good left to hope for.
But then again, there are people that were not like others, very special men who had skills and abilities much needed to survive in the wilderness alone. Just like the animals did. But she was not allowed to learn from them. Knowledge is forbidden. They want her only as a bird in a cage, only writing and writing and writing.

Her hands are stricken with spasms. While she is young, it will not be noticed much. But for that she will have claws in the place of hands when and if she arrives to old age. Rest is needed. She listens to the sound of wilderness. A green parrot is spreading its wings on her window frame.
She stops to think. And wonder.
What if and when those forms and reports won’t have to be written down anymore? What is she to do then? It looks like days that were previously described will never come to be.
Always falling behind, never satiating their endless need. What if those are secret languages hidden by the usual date and number and scientific mumbo-jumbo symbols? Could she decipher them without them knowing about it? And could she keep her work going if what she finds out is too terrible to endure? What the hell are they doing in those rainforests anyway?

Because the sea was blue and timid. And the thought of jumping right in enticing. The idea was good because the big blue is filled with predators, and the coast lines with twilight vultures. They feed as the hunger comes.