My life has changed.

I've gone from a captain to a king. And I don't like it.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Ten

I did not run. I was just about to, but Kiel finally arrived and saved her people the grief of my escape. She approached smiling, as if she had the right to treat me as a good friend. 

"Hello again," she greeted happily.

I ignored.

She spoke a few more prompts, but failed to get me to respond. Until she invited me back to her hut. We would be alone, and I would finally get some words in. I agreed. 

She led the way, leaving her guards behind and trusting I would stay close. I suppose, now looking back on it, there was nothing I could do anyway. I could run, but where? To the beach a quarter of a mile away. That was my only escape. So I just stayed with her, hoping to please her and keep her in a fine mood. She was the queen of the island. Who knew how she got that position...

We arrived and she made herself busy with preparing some fruit for us. "You came back," she observed.

"I needed food," was all I granted her the gratification of. 

"You know," she said, looking over her pale shoulder at me. "If you just accepted us and stayed put, you could have whatever luxury you want."

I snickered. "Really? Would you happen to have a king sized bed anywhere around here? Feather pillows? A decent blanket?"

Kiel had a smile on her face. This displeased me. "Why are you so content with yourself?"

She walked over with a hollowed out melon in hand. "You remind me of myself when I landed here. I hated the place." She took a seat in one of the hand made chairs. I took the one next to her, only for my legs' sake. "But the people were kind, and treated me as royalty."

"For some reason, I highly doubt your tale."

She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "Take my words or don't. I'm only trying to help you."

"You can help me by having your dull-minded people build me a raft off this island."

She laughed. "Where would you go? There's no land, or humans for miles and miles. We're the only life source. It's us, or nothing."

She took some fruit and began eating calmly, as if she were expecting me to actually listen and contemplate he words. I did no such thing. I took some fruit myself, and ate it as she, staring her down, showing no fear.

She only laughed at this. Of course, she only laughed because I was intimidating her. She stood and handed me the rest of the food in the melon shell. "Very well. Go back to your beach and sulk. I've noticed you have a talent for that."

"Perhaps I will."

"Great," she smiled as I stood, facing her. "When you get hungry or need a pillow and blanket, come find me."

I took a few moments to process her words. I still am confused as to her meaning. Did they have pillows and blankets? I will never know. I refuse to give in. 

I left her hut after that and went back to my beach, eating the food as I went. I sit here now, with no more food, and only my words on paper. Someone will come for me. I know it. There has to be a way out of here. I will find one. Even if I must drift to another continent, I will make it. God be with me.

And until I do that, this is my last entry. Goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Nine

I confess. I went back to the hooligans of the island. My hunger overcame my will power. Unfortunately, they welcomed me back with smiles and gave me what was left of their dinner (which was quite a lot as the entire island would place their uneaten food on a giant, flat stone so they could take from it whenever they pleased). 

I now sit next to a camp fire, listening to them sing what I guessed were meant to be songs. I would have gone back to my beach now that I was fed, but they threatened my life. "You stay until Kiel comes, or we eat you next," they'd said.

Kiel was as blind as she was short. They do mean harm. They're a stupid race of people that think they are superior and there is no possible chance that they would respect me as Kiel said they would if I were to be pleasant. No chance. 

I should like to inform Kiel so, but she is taking her sweet time getting back to me. Part of me suspects they didn't call for her at all. It as just a ruse to keep me put. And they thought I wouldn't put the pieces together.

It is settled, then. I am going to run. I am going to attempt to escape. But seeing as the people are everywhere in sight, I most likely will not make it out alive. Fine. I will die fighting. This is goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Eight

My death couldn't come sooner. It is freezing, the moon is shining too brightly to sleep, and my stomach is threatening to implode on itself. I can only hope that my death is a quick one.

But I wouldn't know, seeing as I'm still alive and too displeased to actually try to let death wash over me. I've always wanted to die in battle, and I had that opportunity when my ship went down. But no - I just had to wash up on an island and survive. 

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the islanders would just be polite to me. I'm sick of them moving me around, pretending not to comprehend what I'm saying, and acting as if they own the place. 

This will be my last entry, seeing as I'm losing the meaning of life. I might as well try to hold my breath for thirty minutes now. Farewell. This is goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Seven

I was awoken this morning by three women carrying baskets of food. I was amazed at the sight of such variety. Vegetables, fruits, meet, water, even bread. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I saw the edible substance.

I ate with spite. Eating food from the people meant that I was accepting from them. That was the last thing I needed.

When the women saw that I was eating well, they smiled and left the small hut, letting me eat in peace. 

For nearly three minutes. When I was getting comfortable with the food, the grass door of the hut opened once more and in the sunshine stood a small figure. "It's a wonderful morning," came a soft voice.

Kiel. 

I licked my lips and looked up at her, wincing in the bright sun. "If you like that sort of thing."

She sat down next to me, taking some of the fruit. "I would like to discuss with you your place on the island."

"I do not want a place on the island. I do not want to be an islander. I want to be set free."

With a low growl in her throat, Kiel stuffed a few pieces of melon in her mouth and stood up. "Fine. I'll have Lekhei take you back to the beach and you can fend for yourself. When you finally decide to cooperate, I'll be in my house."

"That's a poor excuse for a house," I scoffed. 

"And you're a poor excuse for a captain."

That was the last thing that evil woman said to me. "Lekhei" (the large man with the stick) came in after I ate and took me - harshly - back to the beach. I huffed down into the sand and ignored everything Lekhei tried to say to me, which consisted of words that I'm sure were meant to offend me, but only amused. 

He left soon when he didn't get any attention. Typical. No one cares about anyone or thing around them unless it's about them. I seem to be the only person on earth that doesn't live by that terrible mien.

I'm now sitting on the beach still, seething at the world. The ocean stretches on for miles. Nothing to be seen. Just the sky touching the horizon. It would be beautiful if I cared. But I don't. I just want to get home. The sky could be exploding in different colored stars and I wouldn't care. 

I just. Want. To go. Back to civilization. 

But that may never happen. I may be stuck on this speck of land for the rest of my life (which could be just a few days because the islanders obviously don't care about me). You are the only one I can say goodbye to.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Six

Kiel did not kill me. The most harmful thing Kiel did was take me by surprise. I was just sitting there, writing, and she (indeed - female) came out from a side room. After looking at all the big boned, tan, blonde, blue-eyed islanders, her pale skin and dark features were unexpected. 

She smiled at me and dismissed the man at the door. "Hey there," she said. 

I stood up and stared at the small woman. "Hello."

She motioned towards the door. "I'm sorry if they gave you any trouble. They're a little shy."

"Shy wasn't the air I was getting from them, exactly..." I mumbled to myself.

She looked over my ruined clothes. "They're good people."

I snickered. "Yes," I agreed, "that's why they threatened to feast on me."

Kiel smiled, as if she were proud of them. "They are a very humorous people. Please, don't take it personally."

She then went on to promise me that no one would bring any harm to me, and that they only wished to help me. The conversation grew out of the small talk and we started discussing where exactly we were, and what they were doing there, and why she looked completely different from the others.

"We're on an island," she answered. "Don't ask where on a map, because part of me believes we're no longer on the globe." (How illogical.)

"We're just a civilized group of people living in isolation from the modern world," she explained. "That doesn't mean we're cavemen. If you eliminated the electricity from a city of your choice, and took away the factor of modern clothing, you would have a clan very similar to us." (Very unlikely.)

Kiel sighed when I brought up her appearance. "I'm not one of them. Not by blood. I crashed here a number of years ago. And because I look different from them, they took me in as a sort of 'higher power.' They don't accept that I'm just like them. Something to do with the eyes, they said."

I narrowed my own brown eyes at her. "My eyes are dark, as well, and I was tied to a tree stump."

"Placed next to a tree stump, I believe. And if you would stop being so skeptical of everything, they might see you as someone as kind as me and give you better treatment."

By this point I had grown tired of the conversation. "All I want," I began slowly, "is to get off this island and go home. I'm a captain, not an islander. I live on the seas, not in a house made of mud and sticks-"

"Not anymore, you don't." She was sharp now. Obviously when I had shown my boredom with our chit-chat, she'd taken after my mood swing. "There's no way off this island. Believe me, I've looked. You're stuck here."

And I proceeded to lose my temper and preach to her about how a captain of my ranking was perfectly capable of getting off a puny island. 

Again, once I insulted their land, I was shut out from decency. Kiel said something in the island's native language, and the man with the stick came back in and shoved me all the way back to the original hut I had awoken in. 

That is where I sit now, trying to write in the dim light of the setting sun. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully a ship looking for lost mates of my abandoned ship. Or possibly a tree for me to carve into a boat. Better yet - a knife to end my misery with. 

I will have to wait inside this hole in the ground and find out in time. Good day to you.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Five

That was not goodbye. That was goodnight. 

I fell asleep against that stump. I know; what a foolish and vulnerable thing to do. But jumping off my sinking ship and swimming to shore and being captured by a tribe of confusing moods all while running on only adrenalin got the better of me. I slept for a while, I think, and I slept hard, for when I woke up, I was in a small hut. 

The hut was made of bamboo and leaves. Good. At least something on that island made sense. No furniture in the house except for a few pillows on the ground (which was just dirt and sand).

I didn't stay there long, because once I awoke, someone heard me and shoved me out of the small shelter. Outside, I saw that I was in what must have been the town. Huts were everywhere. The ground was packed into a hard surface from all of the walking done on it. Blonde people were walking around everywhere, casting amused glances at me with their bright blue eyes every once and a while. But what was most alarming was the giggles the women tried to suppress. 

I was taken into a large hut - about three times bigger than the one I had woken up in. And this one was even filled with furniture. Obviously I knew it was where the king of the island lived.

And sure enough, once I made this observation, someone walked in behind me. "Kiel will see you now," the buff, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man with the stick from earlier said. 

That was twenty minutes ago. I now sit in a chair inside the large hut, awaiting "Kiel." He will certainly kill me. Goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Four

They have not killed me yet. For some reason they are saving me. 

They speak two languages. Obviously English (poor, poor English) and some other interesting language that sounds lovely until they speak aggressively, at which point it quickly switches over from a wonderful sound to the sound of their throats closing in on themselves. 

I was sitting against a tree, writing blindly as I kept an eye on the leader. When we had gotten back to what I can only assume to be their "shelter" (which was really just an open space of land with a few handmade chairs sitting around and plenty of new people casting blue eyes upon me), the leader grabbed a stick off of a big chair and took a seat, calling around orders to the others.

They were quick to aid his requests: water and a shoulder massage. And after he got comfortable on his little thrown, he finally looked back to me.

Studied me.

Instructed someone to throw a coconut at me. 

And then smiled at me. 

"You are," he asked, "scared?"

I frowned. "That all depends on what you're going to do to me."

Then he frowned. "We eat you."

"You will eat me," I corrected. "And in that case, then yes, I suppose I am a bit scared."

There had been a low chuckle that spread across all the people watching. There were around twenty. Men and women alike. All slightly blonde with tan - but not too tan - skin. And still, they all wore actual cloths for clothing.

The leader stood from his seat and approached me slowly, smothering plants with his bare feet as he went. The stick in his hand was about his height, and it appeared that he only used it for leaning against, not to make it clear that he ruled. 

He peered down at me with narrowed eyes. "We will not eat you."

I nodded, swallowing down my shameful hesitancy. "Thank you. Both for your kindness and your correct sentence structure."

He stood up straight. "Sentence structure? What do you know of sentence structure? You're simply a captain."

I frowned in astonishment. "You speak fluently," I observed, getting to my feet. He didn't seem to mind, so I continued to lean up off the tree. "How can you speak fluently?"

"My grandfather," he explained, "was from America."

"So, what are you doing here? And why do you have more than one language? What do you need with more than one language on this small, pathetic island?"

That was all they allowed me to ask. They mentioned briefly that they did not appreciate my tone and then sat me back down on the tree, where I am now. They've turned cold shoulders to me. They did not appreciate my choice of words in describing the piece of dirt we not stand on. 

They are whispering among themselves something about a kiel. Or perhaps it was a name. Kiel... It would make sense for their kind to have absurd names. Kiel...

But whatever kiel may be, I know it is something/someone that is going to kill me. I am a dead man. This is goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Three

Hell just got worse. Well...more interesting, I should say.

There are people on his beach island. Five men approached me after a few minutes of wallowing in self pity and boredom. They're tan (but not as tan as films make islanders out to be), with long hair (mostly blonde - bleached from the sun), clothes made from cloth (surprisingly; I would have expected leaves), and each of the five carried a bag of...something. Something large, from the looks of it.

At first I was sure they did not speak. But they proved me wrong. "Who you?" they demanded. 

"'Who you?'" I repeated, astounded. I continued to sit on the sand, folding my hands around my knees. "I believe you mean who am I."

They weren't amused.

"Up," the biggest man instructed. Before I even had time to do as he said, the other four ran towards me and picked me up. I was startled and started flailing around, forcing instructions upon them, myself. "Quiet," the (what I assumed to be) leader huffed, then turned and started walking away. And the four others, with me in their arms, followed. 

I am currently still getting a ride from one of them. He's strong enough that flinging me over his shoulder was no problem. And he's daft enough that he can't sense me using his back as a surface to write on. 

I don't know where they're taking me. I don't know if I'll live for much longer. But I think that if I keep my cool, they may see me as someone to respect. Possibly.

Or they might see it as me pleasantly cooperating and they'll assume tying me to a log above a fire will be easy. 

Either way, I'm about half way up my thigh deep in a sticky situation. I'm almost certain I'll be eaten within the next few hours. So this may be our last conversation. This is most likely goodbye.

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry Two

I'm still here.

After taking a nap, on this God forsaken beach, I'm still here. And it's even hotter than it was previously. I'm sweaty. I'm hungry. I'm irritated. And my toes hurt because of the sand between them. 

I could easily turn around and walk into the small jungle behind me to try to find some shade, or some milk, or quiet, and even clean my toes out with some grass. But I'd much rather sit in the hot sand complaining. What if I see a shipmate? What if they need help? 

Well, if they do, they're on their own because I can't swim for anything. I was lucky to have found a log to hold onto when we went down. But! The point remains: I have to stay on the beach, watching the wide ocean in case I see someone, whether it's someone in need of help, or someone who can help.

I shall sit. And wait. For nothing. "For anything," I should say. But something in my pessimistic gut tells me I'm waiting for absolutely nothing. But to make myself feel better, I'm going to still wait, because being stubborn brings me a sliver of joy in the hell I'm currently sitting through. 

[oncetherewasasadman-me]

Entry One

The ship crashed. 

It was such a surprise, honestly. I was just brushing my teeth and all of the sudden the massive vessel was tipping sideways. I didn't have time to do anything but run on-deck and jump off the side of the boat, toothbrush still in my mouth.

I don't know why I didn't just thrown the toothbrush to the side. I just...don't know. And now it's like this toothbrush is the only other being around. This beach doesn't feel alive. The waves are making a bit too much noise. And the trees are letting off no shade whatsoever. It's all so...surreal.

But it's really happening. Evident by the pepperminty taste in my mouth that I can't wash out. I could try, of course, but I would only be left with salt from the ocean in my mouth...and that doesn't really seem like something I want to have in my mouth so I'll stick with the peppermint. 

Actually, now that I think about it, the taste in my mouth isn't evidence of anything. Maybe I'm just dreaming. There's only one way to tell. 

I'm going to take a nap.

I may never see you again, seeing as I'll wake up in reality soon. So I guess this is goodbye...