Her eyes resembled pirate glass.
So dark, and weathered.
Perhaps this is what eyes look like,
once you’ve seen the world erupt into fire,
and calm into ice.
Perhaps her eyes were once brightly colored,
and she simply lost a battle with time.
But inside her eyes, it was unmistakably vibrant.
Just like La Cumbre.
…
So lonely,
Passiada longed for a companion.
Just a simple someone,
perhaps a finch to circle her head,
and share gossip about the ghostly figures,
Far away,
Beyond the black, molten sea.
…
Instead,
She spent her days murmuring to the volcano.
She’d liked to think the rumbling was a response.
Maybe laughter.
Just maybe.
Her beak brushed against the dwindling stalks of grass,
nibbling slowly.
It’s a beautiful day, she called out,
to the vast horizon.
…
Passiada stretched her neck,
gazing at the top of the fiery mountain,
spewing blazes,
red lakes oozing out.
And she remembered.
So clearly,
almost too clearly,
and vividly.
And she felt herself slip away.
Back into the day.
…
The day where the lakes became waves,
and engulfed the land,
creating a raging sea of red,
that cooled into the barren, stygian ocean.
All frozen in time.
The day where the sky turned scarlett,
and the world was angry.
Screeching crimson fire.
It was like someone lit the heavens ablaze.
…
The panic,
her heartbeat drumming against its cage.
And the loneliness,
the aching of surviving.
The anxiety that came with the solace the patch of surviving vegetation offered.
…
Her and her kipuka.
Her kipuka and her.
Like it would be forever.
Unless,
fleeting thought soared,
unless,
she swam through the basaltic abyss,
and into the new horizon.
…
A tentative step forward,
a jolt of sharpness,
a quick pace backward.
As her eyes gazed ahead,
she only saw fields of sable gloom.
And she fell into despair.
And into a horrible feeling of helplessness.
Trapped in a jail of empty days.
She crawled into her shell,
dragging her melancholy with her.
…
Days went by,
and the months passed.
Passiada took no notice.
Years chipped away.
Hunger clawed her stomach.
Time picked her a p a r t.
How she longed for it to take her desolation.
…
And it didn’t,
It took her.
Passiada flew,
out of her shell,
Leaving her misery behind,
leaving her hunger.
Flying into the beautiful azure empyrean,
with open arms.
…
Author’s Note: This fictional story is heavily based on an actual Galápagos Tortoise of the Chelonoidis phantasticus species, Fernanda. The uniquely small tortoise was found on the remote island of Fernandina, surviving off a small patch of vegetation in 2019, and is currently the only found living tortoise of the species. She is suspected to have lived in the kipuka for 50+ years. Fernanda represents one of the most miraculous discoveries, as her species was presumed extinct for over 100 years. Fernanda was transported to the Fausto Llerena Tortoise Center on Santa Cruz Island to protect her from Fernandina’s active volcano, La Cumbre. Scientists are racing against time to find a mate to ensure the species’ survival.