the isle, 9/11/18
none of us know how we ended up here
or how long we will remain
day 1: raining. i have no tools. i am hungry.
day 2: desperation motivates me to observe my surroundings. because i lived in the city for so long, i first observe my surroundings for friends, but i find none. i had none there so i cannot envision who i should find here. and yet, to see a person at all, would make them a friend. this seems not too much different from living in the city.
day 3: i have caught a hare. it fell into a snare, a simple pit i dug with my hands and covered with twigs and leaves. when i pick it up its fur is surprisingly soft for the humid wilderness around us and i feel her bones underneath her delicate skin. her heart is fluttering in her neck. i do not have the courage to eat her.
day 4: i have learned to make a simple dwelling for my new friend. she hasn't run away despite finding some compromised points in said dwelling. i now know i can make one for myself, but it will take more time and materials.
day 5: the river nearby is teeming with life and when you touch it, its coolness is refreshing. i do not know how to catch what swims in it because these creatures are agile. their gleam is enticing. i have made do with berries and a strange, succulent blue fruit. when i bit into it the skin was bitter and leathery but just beneath this layer was a juicy, alien thing. if i could describe its flesh it was textured like a peach but had the sweeter and tangier notes of strawberry. i ate too many and began to see things.
day 9: eating the blue fruit in moderation and cooking it on a stick makes the hallucinations stop.
day 15: the fish swam right into the netting i made from tree bark fibers. when i dredged them up i saw many of them were young. i made a mental note to check further upstream for older fish and to see what i can do to multiply these.
day 25: many birds flew overhead, their hue as blue as the blue succulent fruit i eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the hare. but no planes, no helicopters. nothing on the horizon. somehow this realization calmed me.
day 54: i have explored farther out today than ever before. i found a grove. i don't know how to describe it because i have never been great with words. the light through the trees lit up lush, blue grass, and just ahead there was a little pond. when i went to inspect it i saw half of the statue of a woman submerged in it. her palm was facing upward, a small bit of water gathered in it. though it was dirty i still drank it. each day that passes i feel a courageous part of me emerge that wants me to try out new things.
day 110: while out spearing fish i saw something. someone. there is someone else on the island. i am in no hurry to meet them.
day 210: the wood is flexible enough in small pieces where you can wet, bend, and shape them. i can make baskets, roofs, utensils.
day 396: life here is beautiful. i keep thinking something bad will happen. i was attacked by a wild animal at night, coming back to camp after relieving myself. the animal scratched and hurt me and in the scuffle i killed it. something automatic kicked in and i skinned the animal and cooked it and ate it with berries. it was one of the best meals i have ever tasted. a bad day used to be a papercut while filing, or knowing rent would be late. there are many medicinal plants on this island. you rub them on cuts and bites and it feels like that river did when i touched it.
day 570: his name is arthur. he doesn't know how he got here either. language barrier. i was completely honest with him and told him i was not interested in making friends on this island. i was somehow able to communicate this effectively enough. arthur understood, and i'd like to believe he shared my sentiment. he has made himself a fine home in a cave just north of here. he has found how to make a wax that will burn through the night.
day 571: arthur left materials in my hut for how to make the wax. animal lard, among them.
day 609: our silent explorations have taken us so far it would take 11 days to get back. how big is this island? we see another person is here. she speaks my language. her name is fiona. she showed us her garden, cultivated with many sorts of edible plants. some so fleshy it tasted just like meat. she trims some off and leaves them in the sea water for the day, in the sun. at night we roast them over the fire with fish and blue fruit. it tastes wonderful. she is very good at communicating and arthur learns how to say things. the first thing he learns how to say is, life is better here.
day 1,269: more people on this island, none who i have had any trouble interacting with, unlike my life in the city, where an invite to a party would give me crippling anxiety. someone new also woke up on the island, not knowing how he got here. we have all tried keeping post to see how people arrive and yet it remains a mystery. each person has an anniversary of when they arrived here, which we approximate by a local plant whose leaf growth marks the days. though time feels different here we settle on using a 365 day cycle. my anniversary was yesterday. i showed them a boat that another man taught me to make, having worked on it for at least 40 days straight. we took turns sailing along the coast and someone sang songs in the evening. when we all retreated to our separate abodes, some traveling many days to come and see me, i felt a sense of... completeness.
day 2,601: i met a man who has been here for more than 10 years, named Jae-Eun. he said before i came there were no traditions. he had gone for a long time before meeting anyone. he met someone some years back but never saw them. when arthur and i showed up he suddenly found there were many people on this island. friends who showed him waterfalls, beautiful animal hides, whistling rocks. he is glad there are traditions now. he would like to make one for what happens to people when they die. oddly enough i hadn't thought of death since the waking up here, even when i have been in mortal danger. we settled on a tradition like the floating lights he saw on TV once. we would choose the most appropriate river to hold this ceremony. there is one by the grove of the goddess that i suggested. "i have been there, and that is the perfect place." were there tears in his eyes? i couldn't tell for sure, because it was very hot out.
day 2,845: arthur has fashioned for me a pen and paper. he left them for me in my hut with instructions on how to make pen and paper. he wrote symbols on the first page that i don't understand, but there was a smiley face at the end.
day 2,846: on my way to arthur's, i found him face down in the stream that runs down to my hut. he had collapsed but was still breathing.
day 3,090: arthur is better again, but he is dying. he was sick before we came here. how could i not tell? "it's very okay," he told me. "life is better now." he is now teaching me how to decipher the symbols of his language.
day 3,220: i have learned to decipher the symbols. he wrote, "we can make directions, for the new people that come. in pictures and different languages. make maps. show them girl's garden so they can eat well."
day 4,001: Jae-Eun presides over the ceremony. i learned how to make holders for arthur's long burning lights so we can place them in the water. arthur's cremated remains were placed in a clay ornamental jar made by another person on the island and floated down the river from the grove of the goddess. so many people came, and everyone was crying. as he gently bobbed along with the lights, i was filled with a feeling of exhilaration. arthur had told me he had always wanted to leave the world better than he found it, and he feared in his old life that he would not have the chance to. he's made life better for so many here on the island. Jae-Eun placed a hand on my shoulder. This was the tenth ceremony he had presided over. He gave me a knowing look. His time was nearing, too. When we all went down to the ocean and ate and danced and celebrated, I watched the fire. I felt a flicker out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, I saw Arthur's cave was lit. I ran away from the celebration, toward his cave, and that's when I realized it was not his cave but someone else's. we both startled each other. "I don't know how I got here," she said. "But when I saw lights in the distance I did my best to make my own, to signal others that I was here." I told her that I, also, had no idea how I got here. But almost 11 years have passed and I am still glad I came.
or how long we will remain
day 1: raining. i have no tools. i am hungry.
day 2: desperation motivates me to observe my surroundings. because i lived in the city for so long, i first observe my surroundings for friends, but i find none. i had none there so i cannot envision who i should find here. and yet, to see a person at all, would make them a friend. this seems not too much different from living in the city.
day 3: i have caught a hare. it fell into a snare, a simple pit i dug with my hands and covered with twigs and leaves. when i pick it up its fur is surprisingly soft for the humid wilderness around us and i feel her bones underneath her delicate skin. her heart is fluttering in her neck. i do not have the courage to eat her.
day 4: i have learned to make a simple dwelling for my new friend. she hasn't run away despite finding some compromised points in said dwelling. i now know i can make one for myself, but it will take more time and materials.
day 5: the river nearby is teeming with life and when you touch it, its coolness is refreshing. i do not know how to catch what swims in it because these creatures are agile. their gleam is enticing. i have made do with berries and a strange, succulent blue fruit. when i bit into it the skin was bitter and leathery but just beneath this layer was a juicy, alien thing. if i could describe its flesh it was textured like a peach but had the sweeter and tangier notes of strawberry. i ate too many and began to see things.
day 9: eating the blue fruit in moderation and cooking it on a stick makes the hallucinations stop.
day 15: the fish swam right into the netting i made from tree bark fibers. when i dredged them up i saw many of them were young. i made a mental note to check further upstream for older fish and to see what i can do to multiply these.
day 25: many birds flew overhead, their hue as blue as the blue succulent fruit i eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the hare. but no planes, no helicopters. nothing on the horizon. somehow this realization calmed me.
day 54: i have explored farther out today than ever before. i found a grove. i don't know how to describe it because i have never been great with words. the light through the trees lit up lush, blue grass, and just ahead there was a little pond. when i went to inspect it i saw half of the statue of a woman submerged in it. her palm was facing upward, a small bit of water gathered in it. though it was dirty i still drank it. each day that passes i feel a courageous part of me emerge that wants me to try out new things.
day 110: while out spearing fish i saw something. someone. there is someone else on the island. i am in no hurry to meet them.
day 210: the wood is flexible enough in small pieces where you can wet, bend, and shape them. i can make baskets, roofs, utensils.
day 396: life here is beautiful. i keep thinking something bad will happen. i was attacked by a wild animal at night, coming back to camp after relieving myself. the animal scratched and hurt me and in the scuffle i killed it. something automatic kicked in and i skinned the animal and cooked it and ate it with berries. it was one of the best meals i have ever tasted. a bad day used to be a papercut while filing, or knowing rent would be late. there are many medicinal plants on this island. you rub them on cuts and bites and it feels like that river did when i touched it.
day 570: his name is arthur. he doesn't know how he got here either. language barrier. i was completely honest with him and told him i was not interested in making friends on this island. i was somehow able to communicate this effectively enough. arthur understood, and i'd like to believe he shared my sentiment. he has made himself a fine home in a cave just north of here. he has found how to make a wax that will burn through the night.
day 571: arthur left materials in my hut for how to make the wax. animal lard, among them.
day 609: our silent explorations have taken us so far it would take 11 days to get back. how big is this island? we see another person is here. she speaks my language. her name is fiona. she showed us her garden, cultivated with many sorts of edible plants. some so fleshy it tasted just like meat. she trims some off and leaves them in the sea water for the day, in the sun. at night we roast them over the fire with fish and blue fruit. it tastes wonderful. she is very good at communicating and arthur learns how to say things. the first thing he learns how to say is, life is better here.
day 1,269: more people on this island, none who i have had any trouble interacting with, unlike my life in the city, where an invite to a party would give me crippling anxiety. someone new also woke up on the island, not knowing how he got here. we have all tried keeping post to see how people arrive and yet it remains a mystery. each person has an anniversary of when they arrived here, which we approximate by a local plant whose leaf growth marks the days. though time feels different here we settle on using a 365 day cycle. my anniversary was yesterday. i showed them a boat that another man taught me to make, having worked on it for at least 40 days straight. we took turns sailing along the coast and someone sang songs in the evening. when we all retreated to our separate abodes, some traveling many days to come and see me, i felt a sense of... completeness.
day 2,601: i met a man who has been here for more than 10 years, named Jae-Eun. he said before i came there were no traditions. he had gone for a long time before meeting anyone. he met someone some years back but never saw them. when arthur and i showed up he suddenly found there were many people on this island. friends who showed him waterfalls, beautiful animal hides, whistling rocks. he is glad there are traditions now. he would like to make one for what happens to people when they die. oddly enough i hadn't thought of death since the waking up here, even when i have been in mortal danger. we settled on a tradition like the floating lights he saw on TV once. we would choose the most appropriate river to hold this ceremony. there is one by the grove of the goddess that i suggested. "i have been there, and that is the perfect place." were there tears in his eyes? i couldn't tell for sure, because it was very hot out.
day 2,845: arthur has fashioned for me a pen and paper. he left them for me in my hut with instructions on how to make pen and paper. he wrote symbols on the first page that i don't understand, but there was a smiley face at the end.
day 2,846: on my way to arthur's, i found him face down in the stream that runs down to my hut. he had collapsed but was still breathing.
day 3,090: arthur is better again, but he is dying. he was sick before we came here. how could i not tell? "it's very okay," he told me. "life is better now." he is now teaching me how to decipher the symbols of his language.
day 3,220: i have learned to decipher the symbols. he wrote, "we can make directions, for the new people that come. in pictures and different languages. make maps. show them girl's garden so they can eat well."
day 4,001: Jae-Eun presides over the ceremony. i learned how to make holders for arthur's long burning lights so we can place them in the water. arthur's cremated remains were placed in a clay ornamental jar made by another person on the island and floated down the river from the grove of the goddess. so many people came, and everyone was crying. as he gently bobbed along with the lights, i was filled with a feeling of exhilaration. arthur had told me he had always wanted to leave the world better than he found it, and he feared in his old life that he would not have the chance to. he's made life better for so many here on the island. Jae-Eun placed a hand on my shoulder. This was the tenth ceremony he had presided over. He gave me a knowing look. His time was nearing, too. When we all went down to the ocean and ate and danced and celebrated, I watched the fire. I felt a flicker out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, I saw Arthur's cave was lit. I ran away from the celebration, toward his cave, and that's when I realized it was not his cave but someone else's. we both startled each other. "I don't know how I got here," she said. "But when I saw lights in the distance I did my best to make my own, to signal others that I was here." I told her that I, also, had no idea how I got here. But almost 11 years have passed and I am still glad I came.