It’s an unusual night on a beautiful beach. The voyage took place early in the evening. It’s a weird adventure. The weather was extremely unfavorable. A dark, tremendous storm cloud was looming on the far side of the ocean. On the other side, an eerie, creepy crescent moon descended to the sea.

He was strange man who looked somehow older and somehow younger than his real age. He was very burly but not very determined. I knew his trip will end soon afterwards. The little boat was too fragile to go cruise in the ocean, especially in a storm just like that. I saw that kind of boat before; they were used in predated transportation. Only his was different. She’s striking. I guessed the old man would return home as soon as he believed he was out of my sight, to his wife, who was waiting to have a supper together, and maybe with their kids too. He just saved his face. We played a little game. It has to pay with respect and dignity.

It confused me, then. The scenario could not happen as I imagined: a story he told me makes sense. And if it were true, that would be the old man’s demise. He would not return home. Ever!

He was half smashed by some kind of alcoholic syrup made out of Palmyra palm fruits and encouraged enough to venture in a storm. He said he was going to an island some thousand leagues away in the Pacific Ocean. It’s a beautiful, isolated crown island surrounded by five smaller islands fanned out in a shape of a starfish. There is a newly built marble castle on the island. It is luxurious with plenty of boozes, foods and music and nothing much to do but just eat, sleep, excrete and do whatever you please. The provisions are always refilled, because it is home to a prince of a very wealthy state. The gorgeous prince is going to celebrate about it with an official grand opening ceremony. He was invited as special guest.

Sounds paradise! I have no doubt, at his age the old man heard and read about fairy tales as much as more than I did. He insisted he is the prince’s close friend, at least once they were. They ventured together in the high sea: fighting pirates, escaping their captive, surviving from dehydration or starvation and successfully returning to the prince’s land. He depicted a map to the pirates’ treasure in the air and gave me a key to open a chest that contained it as proven evidence. He said I can go get them right after we departed.

The old man didn’t look so much like he grows up. That made me disbelieved. I thought it’s not quite right though. In my life, there are too many true stories I cannot get people to believe that I was telling the truth, too.

The train caught up a speed. In one mind, I would love to see that old signpost accelerated away again. In the other, I started to have a bad feeling. I wished the old man joked me and I did not put his life in danger unintentionally. I wished I see him over there again in the village. I felt like I must take responsibility. It made me jumped up on the train, and I’ll not be happy through the rest of my life until I find out what I thought was wrong.

***

Bored, and suffered, of being treated like a nobody; it should be, I am just a low-wage-earner in a big and confusing city, I took a two-week holiday leave to revisit a small, tranquil seafront village in a remote southern province of Pattani. It located nearby the spot I accidentally met with the old man in a previous trip. I was accidentally run into that lovely little village too. It’s friend of mine’s mistake in an itinerary arrangement. A hired pickup-truck-bus dropped me there just ahead of the dark. I had no option but to pass the night with the villagers.

With its scenic seascape, the village could be one of the world’s popular tourist destinations of world class but naturally-preserved serviced resorts. In other word, it is raw and remote with rustic inhabitants. Despite loving peace, the villagers are aggressive towards malicious-intent visitors. They are naturally curious about other people’s affaires too. I was greeted by folks of the entire community who just wanted to ensure that I have a cozy place to sleep.

Alone, and in search of spiritual inspiration, I told a hired motored rickshaw driver to drop me off at a shrine about half a kilometer on the way back to the village. I was there before. The locals believe it’s a sacred place and a home to a powerful ancient guardian spirit who protects worshipers from any harms and, sometimes, brings them lucks. They say the guardian can throw people’s life into hardship, too, if committing something desecrated towards it.

I thought the folks were right. I saw miracle myself. As I put a garland on the altar to pay respect to the spirit, out the corner of my eyes, I noticed and recognized immediately an eye-catching mid-size fishing boat sitting tranquilly on a concrete block in an adjacent outbuilding. She’s the old man’s. She looked as if she deserved the nest for the next generations admiring her beauties.

I was more than happy. I marched off directly toward her, and was wondering if I can see the old man mooning around and come to say howdy. But the place was empty. I was the only visitor at the time. No sign of him.

Fascinating, I stretched out my arm and ran my fingers across the boat’s sleek hull. I can feel as if she was flesh craved out of a tree. The one-piece wood was unearthly thick but light like feature. There was a pale, beautiful craving and figurehead of a myth depicting an ancient belief on the top half of the hull where it did not dip into water. It’s a story of a vicious goddess who is commonly worshipped by seafarers throughout the region. In a tale she was murdering her lover who she wants to break up with in order to have a new boyfriend. He’s a poor man and a faithful lover. The picture was coated with a mysterious film that protects it from wearing away even for a century. I thought the film was a masterpiece of ancient knowledge too. There’s no such art in modern days.

“She sails like a wind.”

An elderly villager who seemed to watch me since I was walking through the front gate got me by surprise. I’d noticed that she looked down at me from the top floor’s window but leaved me alone in the prayer hall.

“Sure, she does,” I responded. “But why’s she here?”

“It’s a long story.” She calculated my characteristic with an eye of a hawk that scanned me thoroughly from head to toe.

“He’s retired?” I asked. She seemed automatically perceived what I was talking about. Maybe we interested about the same thing. Or, maybe she’s his wife. They got peer age.

“He’s gone missing,” she said, “two months ago, maybe three.”

“I’m sorry?” I was shocked.

After a stunned moment, the old woman touched me by the arm and walked me to a marble table in a shade of a three where we can and sit and talk.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I demanded.

“From what,” she said.

“From the very beginning, who is he?” I said.

“Are you really interested?” She stared at me with a rigid eye. Deep sorrows expressed on her ancient face. They were obviously connected.

“Look, granny! I am the last person who spoke to him,” I told her frankly. Like most folks, she didn’t trust stranger.

“What did he talk to you?

“He didn’t tell me everything, but he said he give me the boat.” I pointed to the boat.

“Oh,” the old woman murmured, speaking to herself.

“Was that bad?”

“Is it brought you back here again, young man?” her tone softened. I can feel as if she felt sympathetic towards me.

“Not exactly, it’s a commitment.” I said. I thought she remembered me. Maybe all the villagers in the village too, they rarely got visitors.

“It’s a cursed,” she shook her head.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“You may not. But it’s been predictable. Everybody knows it would happen. All the same, they disappeared in mysteries, and so the old man. It’s the boat, the revengeful spirit. That’s why villagers keep her here, because they believe the protector spirit would suppress the evil.”

For some reasons, I knew what she meant. I had heard a thousand of stories just like that. It’s the local belief. Everything they cannot explain, they give credit to spirits; deity spirit and devil spirit, case by case. They are everywhere. Form her prospective, the boat is evil; the very wicked one. The engraved story accentuates her superstitious legendary. That deity woman drowned people in the sea to make them her servants for eternity. Except for some bad luck guys, she would make him a husband.

We went deep in chat. The old woman released story fragment by fragment. She said everybody thought the old man was a lunatic; I thought so, he appeared to be, but…(to be continued)