Four Doors and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

went forward into the sea, up to her thighs. The margins of her tunic were floating above the water. All of a sudden, in an inexplicable way, she found herself on a dolphin’s back. He took her far beyond the buoy. He plunged into the waves and swam along groups of copper seahorses that were graciously waving their tails and banks of lively rainbow fish. Along lazy medusas that the current made, by their speedy passing, turn upside down. Anyhow, it seemed that turning the jellyfish upside down, with their top facing towards the sea’s bottom, was their preferred amusement. Each time the dolphins would swim past one, they would put more strength in their movements. They would slow down as soon as they were moving away.
    Only a few minutes had passed and she already knew how to ride the animal. Completely free, she had raised her arms in the air and cheered:
    “Huraaaayyyyy! This is beautiful!”
    The salty water entered her nose, her ears, her eyes but it didn’t matter. She closed her eyes, to stop the burning sensation and opened them up when the turmoil quietened. Here she was, soaking wet, back on her beach towel. In the distance, she saw a black and shiny back above the water.
    Was it a dream or was it real, she asked herself. She had read somewhere – she could not remember where, that the human brain cannot tell the difference between imagination and reality, generating similar body responses. She tried this theory on herself once during a posh event, seeing herself doing abs exercises. As soon as she got back home, she took off her clothes and looked in the mirror. She had been concentrating for almost an hour with minor interruptions but the result failed to manifest. Nada, nothing! She had given up.
    Is it so important if it was for real or not , she said to herself. It was an awesome experience. One that my colleague with panties as big as a truck cover, shall never live!
    The noise of smashed shells broke off her train of thought. An old man with greasy garments, stinking of fish, came forth.
    “You’re not from around here, are you, girl?”
    A girl, really? She, who had come into the full age of her thirties, who was a hotshot in an advertising agency, who wore only famous brand clothes and had all-inclusive holidays. Leaving in a rush, she had forgotten her whole stock for painting her face. Thus, the freckles on her cheeks and nose, usually hidden under a thick layer of foundation and powder, were now displaying in the daylight for everyone to see.
    “Noooo, I’m not,” she answered, playing the spoilt child she had suddenly become.
    “That’s why you are sitting here when the storm is coming. Go and get some shelter, it’s something you don’t want to mess with. At least if it was a lightning rod somewhere around,” he said, pointing to a formation of dark clouds that was already taking bites from the sun. He knew what he was talking about, the old man.
    “Thanks,” she said. And smiled as if this word she had so rarely uttered during the last years, had taken a load off her chest.
    “To whom do you belong? Am I right or this is the first time we have met?”
    “To nobody!”
    The old man looked surprised.
    “I mean nobody in this village,” she added in one breath. “I’m a tourist, I arrived late last night and I’m staying at La Prison de la Mer.”
    The wind was rising, waving the old man’s cheeks while he has scratching his head as if he tried to figure out something.
    “The first cottage on the sea wall. Up, there,” she said pointing to the abrupt bank...
    “Hum! Such a treat, what can I say!”
    The gusty wind had started to rise up the sand, whipping their feet. She wanted to ask him what did he mean, but he signalled her to hurry:
    “We’re running out of time for talking. We must seek shelter!”
    They left in opposites directions. He went towards some wooden shacks built on the breakwater edge. She started mounting the steep slope. It would have been difficult for her