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Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

The Island

Recently, walking along the ocean, I saw a glass bottle of ancient rum sticking out of the wet sand, which the tidal waves washed up on the beach. Carefully uncorking the bottle, I took the paper out of the bottle and opened it, I began to read the text of the letter, which was written in Uzbek. My Uzbeks are restless, you guys are everywhere! Even on a deserted island!... My hands were cracked with excitement, like the hand of an alcoholic holding a cut glass of burning vodka. I thought that this letter should indicate the location of a priceless treasure with a mysterious map drawn, which I can use to find the untold wealth buried by the pirates.I even had tears of joy in my eyes, and I thanked God who had finally given me what I had always dreamed of.What happiness, my God!Now I'm going to get very rich, and the first thing I"ll do is buy hundreds of thousands of acres of fertile land and build myself fairy-tale castles. I'll have my own cruise ships, my own planes. In a way, the whole world will be under my feet. With these thoughts in mind, I began to read the letter with a wild interest, as they say, with a rush. The text of the note was as follows:


I am glad that my message has finally reached your hands and I very much hope that you will immediately inform the government, who will set up an extraordinary rescue headquarters under the Cabinet of Ministers and send rescue teams to find me. I live on a desert island (unfortunately I do not know its name) and I am afraid that I will soon completely go mad alone. To prevent this from happening, I do my best to amuse myself, singing songs and talking to myself like a madman, ignoring the deafening screams of gulls, cormorants and albatrosses. I run along the sandy shore of the noisy ocean, doing sports. I draw various drawings on the sand with a stick, write poems and stories to somehow remember who I am and where I came from.The worst part is that I don't remember when, where, or what ship I came from. Who knows, I may have lost my memory after the ship I came on was wrecked on the granite rocks of the coast during a storm.I carefully  checked, firmly convinced no-one but me was on this island.When I explored this island, I found some terrible things that made my hair stand on end. Since the iron barrels that I found were painted with radiation hazard signs in the form of skulls with bones. It turns out that nuclear tests were conducted on this island for many years.I am absolutely sure that I am infected with radiation, because I eat the fruits of wild trees and berries, and I breathe this air.The fish and crabs I catch every day on the ocean are also contaminated with radioactive substances. Sitting on a rocky, high Bank, I look out alone at the endless starry sky at night, watching the flight of bats by the moonlight. During the day, I talk to wavy green parrots, which surprise me, they speak human language, having learned by heart some words that I once uttered. They tease me by repeating the same words. Despite this, I will try to maintain a friendly relationship with these feathered screamers, which move along the branches of trees with the help of their beaks.Here, on such an island saturated with deadly radioactive substances, I live alone, meeting the dawn and sunsets, waiting for ships. There is no other island to live on.

With deep respect, lonely Humanity.

When I read the note, I got angry. Then I stuffed the letter into the bottle and threw it back into the ocean.

9:09 in the morning.
Canada, Ontario.


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