Jonah stood on the sturdy wooden dock and scanned the horizon. He could make out the outline of the mainland. He’d attempted to swim it more than once only to be forced to turn back or die. Would today be the day the boat would arrive? Brown murky water lapped at the timbers and a scaled water lizard trolled for a morning snack.
A low guttural growl turned him around. The feral creatures on this island were like none he’d ever encountered. Half animal and half-mythical, he discovered their weakness quite by accident and out of desperation.
He strode down the dock, stopping to scoop up the golden dagger he’d left lying in the sand. He ran toward the creature screaming, dagger aimed at its heart.
Perhaps it was the glint of the sun off the metal blade. Jonah didn’t know, but it worked every time.
It now seemed like a lifetime ago that he was dropped in this godforsaken place. Had it been the right choice? He questioned himself every day. Maybe prison wouldn’t have been so bad.
He scanned the horizon a final time before kneeling to light a fire. If he’d only known when the option had been given, he might have chosen differently. But, at the time, anything sounded better than being locked in a cement box buried in the ground.
Sure, they’d given him the dagger and a few supplies. Everything else, he had to get on his own. And, it didn’t help that the island was covered with thickly tangled nettles that stung the skin when touched, flowers filled with deadly venom and blackbirds that swooped down without warning and pecked at his head. But, the creatures were the worst of all. He’d never forget the first time they showed themselves. Fangs that glowed red when they growled and claws like that of Eagles had sent him climbing the nearest tree despite the stinging nettles and prickly thorns. But, their claws allowed them to easily climb and he was left with no option but to run. It wasn’t until exhausted and unable to run anymore, he finally turned and drew his saber. He prepared to die. But instead, they backed down.
With welts covering his body from the stinging nettles and sweat dripping down his face, he’d waded into the murky, muddy water. Strangely enough, the mud lessened the pain and he’d left his body covered with it for two days.
Driven to construct some sort of shelter, he used his saber to cut branches and brush.
That was the first day. He’d improved the shelter over the many days that followed.
He kept track of time with marks on a piece of driftwood. It was now covered with thirty marks and he was still alive.
But, for how long?
Hi, everyone. I hope you enjoyed meeting Jonah. Will he survive long enough for the boat to arrive? What did he do to get exiled to this horrible and dangerous island? Join me on Sunday to find out more about him and this strange arrangement.