Olas The Lost Town
The salt spray stung Maya’s face, a persistent ache that mirrored the one in her chest. The ferry horn groaned, a mournful bellow that echoed the silent farewell she hadn’t been able to speak. She gripped the cold railing, her knuckles white against the rusted metal, and watched as the island slowly receded into the mist.
It hadn’t been a bad place, not really. Olas, with its craggy cliffs and the constant, comforting rhythm of the sea, had been her home for twenty-two years. Twenty-two years of sun-drenched mornings, the smell of frying fish wafting from the harbor, and the easy familiarity of faces she’d known since childhood. It was a part of her, ingrained in her marrow, like the salty air she was currently inhaling.
And yet, she was leaving.
She wasn’t just leaving the island, she was leaving Kai. He was a stubborn thing, that boy, as rooted to Olas as the ancient olive trees that dotted the hillsides. He’d been her best friend, her confidante, her rock for as long as she could remember. They’d built sandcastle empires on the beach, chased stray cats through the winding alleyways, and whispered secrets under the canopy of a starlit sky.
The last few years, though, their connection had shifted. The whispers had become stolen glances , the playful shoves had turned into hesitant touches, and the comfortable silence had crackled with an unspoken tension. He loved her, she knew it. She loved him too, in a way that felt both familiar and terrifying.
But Kai was Olas. He was the rhythm of the fishing boats, the clang of the blacksmith’s hammer, the smell of woodsmoke clinging to his hands. He was the island’s heartbeat, and she was… not. She craved something more, something beyond the horizon of this small, familiar world.
For months, she’d wrestled with it. The guilt gnawed at her, a constant reminder of the pain she was inflicting. She tried to picture a life with Kai, a life where she stayed, where she became another fixture on the island. But the image felt suffocating, like a cage built of love and expectation.
So, she’d done the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d packed a single suitcase, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. She’d left a note on their shared picnic spot, tucked beneath a smooth, sea-worn stone. Simple words, clumsy with the effort it took to write them : “I need to find myself.”
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to face him, to see the hurt in his deep brown eyes. She feared that if she saw his pain, she wouldn’t be able to leave. So, she’d slipped away before dawn, the silence of the island a deafening chorus to her departure.
The ferry churned forward. The island shrinking further into the distance. The wind whipped her hair across her face, and she closed her eyes, tears finally breaking free. They were tears of grief, of fear, of a strange, unsettling hope. She was leaving her past, leaving the comfort and security of everything she knew, in search of something unknown.
She didn’t know what the future held, or if she would ever find her way back to Olas. But she knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within her soul, that she had to try. She had to follow the pull of the unknown, had to explore the vastness of the world that lay beyond the familiar shores of her beloved island.
And as the last sliver of Olas disappeared into the mist, Maya finally understood. Leaving wasn’t about abandoning Kai, or the island, but about discovering who she was, beyond the confines of everything she’d ever known. It was a step into the vast, terrifying, and exhilarating unknown, and she was finally, truly, ready to take it.