Day 2,

I feel better after a night’s sleep and morning’s breakfast.  Things are still strange though.  I’m writing this sitting at the kitchen table of the cabin I was given to live in, morning sunlight coming in the window and the rest of the basket of bread and fruit the old man left me just an arm’s length away.  Pat, he said his name was.  Apparently it used to be short for something but even he has trouble remembering what it was these days.  I’m starting to wonder if that’s a common problem around here.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.  Try to cover as much as I can remember from yesterday.  It’s not like I have any other plans for today, except maybe explore and tidy the house more.

The first thing that I was aware of, that I can remember, was the feeling of water lapping at my heels.  Then the sound of the waves.  Not sure if the cool breeze running over me or the warm sand I was lying on registered next.  Which is all a fancy way to say I woke up in a daze on a beach not knowing how I got there.

I was damp, but not soaking wet.  If I’d washed up from the sea I’d been lying there long enough to mostly dry out.  Not that I was quite lucid enough at the time to put that together, this is just me looking back trying to puzzle things out.  I was barefoot.  My only clothes some undergarments and knee-length… robe? tunic? chiton? drape?  Not sure where I got that.

For that matter, I couldn’t (and still can’t) remember a great number of things, who I am or where I was before this chief among them.  Or rather, I know things about myself, but not my history.  I know what a cat is but not if I’ve ever had one as a pet.  I know I like hot chocolate but can’t bring to mind the context of a time I ever drank it.  I know what microwaves, electronics, the internet, gerrymandering, atomic structures, feudal governing systems, and crop rotation all are and have varying degrees of understanding on how they work and have opinions on some of them, but I can’t remember learning those things or where (or if) I ever directly encountered any of them.  And from what I’ve seen I don’t think this place has any of those.

Even my own body felt unfamiliar once I finally got up and tried moving.  Like all my limbs were slightly different proportions than my reflexes were used to and my center of gravity displaced.

Looking back, it’s probably a good thing I was so out of it at the time.  I probably would have panicked pretty bad.

Took a break from writing to look around the house.  Found a mirror in one of the rooms.  Didn’t recognize the person I saw in it.  Spent… I don’t know how long… crying.  I’m not sure if this place even has clocks.  Weird thing is, it was a happy sort of crying.

Back to yesterday.  Fortunately, Pat soon found me wandering the beach in my daze.  The old man likes his seaside strolls.  Or maybe he’s just been waiting for something like this to happen again.  He’s a jovial sort, seemed to have a joke for nearly everything, but knew when to rein it in when it looked like I was getting overwhelmed.  Which was a lot if I’m being honest.

As he guided me toward the Village, he filled me in on some things.  I’m pretty sure most of it went in one ear and out the other as I struggled to take everything in, but here’s what I can remember.

• I’m not the first person to show up like this.  It’s something that’s happened for as long as the Village has been around.
• I am however the first outsider to wash up in a generation or so.  It used to happen more often.
• The last outsider in the Village passed away about a year ago. (It’s actually his house that I seem to have inherited.)
• Pat’s the oldest person in the Village and has some sort of corresponding status as Village Elder.
• We’re currently on the largest island of a large archipelago.
• There are no other settlements besides the Village.

When we got to the Village itself it was a sensory overload.  White walled houses overlooking the sea, striking color contrasts in the tiled rooftops and cloth awnings.  A few grander buildings I can’t put a proper name to right now.  I’ll need another look when I’m not so overwhelmed to do it justice.  See if the streets were actually that maze-like or if it just felt that way at that time.

As Pat gave me the tour (central bakery, blacksmith, carpentry studio, docks, a few places to eat, etc.) he brought up the topic of what I’d be doing now that I lived here.  And there seemed to be no question in his mind that I was in fact a resident of the Village now.  While it’s a peaceful place where no one seems to want for much “work that contributes to the community brings a sense of purpose and connection.”

My memory being what it was, I could recall no prior occupation or skills that seemed useful in a community such as this.  With some gentle prodding from Pat to gauge my interests if not skills, I eventually admitted to a love of stories and reading.  The elder smiled through his long white beard at this.  Was he expecting that answer?

If I had no objections (I did not) it was decided that I would take the place of the town archivist who had passed away last year with no kin or apprentice.  Or at least give the job a shot in a couple of days to see if it suited me.  At any rate, his house was now empty and I was in need of a place to live.

The house (the one I’m in now) was apparently on the outskirts an hour or so’s walk outside of town proper.  Energetic for his age as he was, that was too much for Pat this late in the day so he loaded me into a wagon belonging to a family on their way back to their farm that would be passing by my new residence.  Before we left, he gave me a parting (or perhaps meeting) gift; food for a couple of days until I was ready to come back to town and the journal I’m now writing in.

If the family I rode with told me their names, I can’t remember.  I’d like to blame it on the day’s shock and sensory overload, but maybe I’m just bad with names.  Or maybe I was too distracted by the scenery.  As strange as this all is, at least the island is beautiful.

Spent the rest of the day cleaning the dust out of the cabin.  And also a couple of nests of some kind.  Found an odd metal pendant among the old archivist’s belongings.  A symbol of office maybe?  Looks nice anyway.  I think I’ll wear it when I go back into the Village tomorrow.