Monaxia

I had been writing in my notebook when I saw the boat approach. I walked to the edge of the beach to watch it arrive. It was an impressive looking ship, almost 500 feet in length, and three separate masts that looked like they could cover the entirety of the island if they were stretched out. I had no binoculars for looking, and so I figured they would have seen me through their binoculars, although I doubted they cared. An old, raggedy man with a grown out beard in nothing but a torn pair of shorts. They would likely gloss right over me, as though I were a slightly larger, but altogether unimportant rock amongst the others on the beach. People had the funny habit of glossing right over me, as though I were colored in a way that made the eyes go lazy, and drift, like a boat without a sail, over my bodice, and only refocus once they had passed me by.

I had grown accustomed to these hordes of people reaching the island. They came, usually for a break from their long voyages. We would seldom interact, instead they usually stayed above ground, and never even ventured near my cave, where my belongings and I stayed. Where I stayed was of no importance to them, as there were no fruit, or animals to be found. In fact, there were no animals to be found anywhere on the island, except for myself and the people who intermittently visited my quaint island in the middle of the ocean. I fed myself off berries, which grew in abundance thanks to a blessing from the goddess that had brought me here. How many years ago, I couldn’t tell you exactly, but it must have been nearing thirty now. There was really no point in counting. I returned to my cave, and sat on the ground, quill in hand and parchment placed on the ground. I began to scribble onto it briefly, but pausing every couple of seconds to think.

A couple of minutes passed, and I heard some talking in the distance. Some crewmates were speaking to each other. They had clearly arrived on the island, and were now exploring it. The entrance to my cave was quite isolated, although not explicitly hidden. There was really no need to hide it, as it was unimpressive looking and had the same quality as myself that you could look directly at it and not even realize that you had seen something. I heard their footsteps come closer, and then over. When they passed, I returned to my writing.

I had taken a break from writing when I turned and saw two crewmates just outside of my cave, walking away from it with their backs turned to the entrance. They were so close that I could make out their conversation clearly, although it was of no interest to me, and so the words became tangled, and mushy anyway. In a few minutes they were gone.

I heard some rustling throughout the night, and so I figured they were spending the night here, at least. I heard one of the soldiers outside say they were leaving the next day. It made no difference to me, and so I returned to my writing for a few moments before laying spread-eagle on the ground and going to sleep.

The next morning I returned to my writing once more. I also went out and ate some berries quickly, and there was no need to gather them up because I had a small appetite, and eating quickly outside of the cave for a few minutes was all I needed to satiate myself. Hours passed, when I finally looked up and saw a woman at the entrance to the cave. She was lifting a leaf, and it seemed she had just happened to wander to the same place as the cave. I waited a moment to see if she would even register that I was inside of here. In my mind, there was a good chance that she was just exploring, and would leave in a moment. Instead, she called out.

“Hello?” She said, her arm still holding the leaf away from her face.

I stood up to greet her. “Hi. You can come in, if you’d like.” I said. I didn’t mind visitors, they just seldom came. She walked in, looking around and taking in her surroundings. There wasn’t much to take in, just a couple of stalactites hanging from the ceiling, and my roll of parchment that I had placed at my desk, and my bed. There was a torch deep in the cave, to my right, and I was looking directly ahead at the entrance.

“I’m sorry.” She said, walking closer to me, now about ten feet away. “I had no idea this island was inhabited. We’re just staying for a few more hours, and then we’ll be gone.”

I raised my hands as though to say it wasn’t a bother, and shook my head. “No need to apologize. The island doesn’t belong to me. In fact, neither does this cave, I’m just having an extended stay as a guest, so to speak.” I said, still standing.

“Well, it’s a nice place you have here. I like what you’ve done with it.” She looked over to her left, my right, to where I stored my parchment, in a chest at the base of the bed. I usually left it open, since there was no risk of anyone stealing it. “What’s this?” She said, momentarily turning her head towards me, and then back to the chest full of parchment.

“Stories, mostly. Some journaling here and there, but mostly stories.” I resisted the urge to say there wasn’t much else to do on the island, as that would be dishonest, since I had no urge to do anything else. She turned her head towards me, and pointed at the parchment. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.” I said, breathing in deeply through my nose, and taking in the moist air of the cave. A single drop from one of the stalactites hit the ground, and echoed in the chamber as she pulled out one of the pieces of parchment, and began to read it. When she was done, she looked towards me, and said “It’s good. It’s really good. I’ve never read anything like this before. You wrote this all yourself?”

“I like doing it, so I’ve had a lot of practice. There’s more over there.” I said, pointing to my right, to a smaller indent in the wall, that you could walk through if you only hunched a little. It was a 15x15 foot area, lined with chests. In between the chests, there were holes in the wall, and a piece of parchment tightly rolled and shoved into each one. The chests were practically all overflowing. She walked over, and thumbed some of the ones in the wall, pulling one out, skimming it until she reached the bottom, and then rolling it back up and replacing it in its place in the wall. Her jaw didn’t close the entire time.

“How long have you been here?” She asked.

“I stopped counting a long time ago, but I think around thirty years.” I said.

“On the island?”

“In the cave.”

“Writing?”

“Yes.”

“Are your crewmates gone?”

“I never had any. I came alone, and not by boat.”

“Well, unless you’ve found a way to fly, there’s no other way to end up on an island.”

“Sit and I’ll tell you.”

She studied me for a second. “You’re not making this up to get me to stay, are you?”

“Everything I’m telling you is true, and you’re free to go at any time. The entrance doesn’t lock, you know.”

“Fine, but I have to be back with my crew before the sun sets. That’s when we leave.”

I gestured to a spot on the ground, and she sat, criss cross applesauce across the fire, and I sat across from her. I took a bowl of berries, and offered it to her. She gladly accepted, and began munching on some, one at a time. I took another bowl and filled it up from a basket filled with them, and began eating them myself.

“It all started when I was a young boy.” I began.

I grew up normal enough, on the mainland, in a forest-y area. We had a decently sized village. A couple hundred people. Enough for there to be a school, where I went. I lived with two parents and a sister, who loved me very much, and I loved them in return. We would have dinner together, and my mom would make me lunch each day to take to school. After school, I would spend most of my days reading, usually fiction books about great adventures, like the Odyssey, or other tales involving the gods.

Naturally, the other kids at school didn’t like this. I would read at the lunch table, and in class, and they would make fun of me. Of course, kids are mean, so I didn’t take it personally. It took me some time, but eventually I started writing on my own. Under the sheets by the glow of a lamp. I would write, as I do now, on a piece of parchment, although much smaller.

I heard of a land, far away, where the best writers in the world resided. It was a place of legends. I imagined it resembled mount olympus, with Homer, and the other greats residing there, like gods, and I dreamt day and night about this mystical place. While the other kids were play-fighting, or playing tag, I was crouched in a corner somewhere, trying to write the next Illiad, knowing there was no other way to reach the mystical island. I thought of nothing else.

The years passed, and I left my loving parents to live in another village. It had many more people, and others who were creative and enjoyed reading and writing like I did. I thought that I had found my people, but, alas, when their work was done, and they had finished transcribing their texts, or hitting their word count for the day, they would go to the local pub and recant tales to each other, or take their significant others out on a date, and I realized they were no different from the people back home who would do their homework and then play swords. I was still completely alone.

More time passed, and now I had a good amount of experience under my belt from writing for so many years. I got my texts published in local journals, and things of that nature, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until every person in the world had read my stories. I did nothing else but write, only stopping to eat or sleep, and even then, barely. I did this for years, and, yet, the goal seemed unattainable. The greats, like Homer, had started their craft at a young age. I had only started a few years ago, when I was already 15. At that point, Homer was already well known for his writing, and I was only starting. I knew it would be hopeless for me. I had to do something drastic, and I had heard of a place where wishes would be granted for a great price. A price too steep for anyone to accept it in good conscience, but for me, it was perfect. The wish-granter resided at the top of a tall mountain in the forest. The hike would take weeks, but it would be well worth it for anyone that could make it. Of course, I thought I could make it.

I hiked the mountain for weeks, and when I reached the top, I found a woman sitting on the ground next to a fire, as you and I are now. I said hello, and she opened her eyes and smiled. She told me that she would grant me any wish, but the price would be just as great as the reward. Confident that I could take it, I told her. I wanted to be a world famous author, with my scripts turned into plays, and every person in the world would know my stories. She smiled, and said, “Your wish is granted. Here is the price.” She handed me a quill. The quill I have now, and she told me the price. The price was that I would be stranded on this island for all of eternity, except for one condition.

“What was the condition?” She asked.

“I would be stranded here until I wrote something that rivaled Homer’s the Odyssey. She thought that since I idolized his works, that I would be stranded until I got over myself, and conquered my fear of trying. She would read each of my pieces, and decide if it was better or worse than The Odyssey. If it was better, she would transport me back home, with the amount of time that I stayed on the island passed, but I would remain the same age. If it was worse, then she would do nothing. I would stay here, and continue writing.”

“But that would mean your parents would die. And your sister would become old and frail.”

“It was a price I was willing to pay. I thought of nothing but fame and fortune. I accepted almost immediately. She snapped her fingers, and I was transported here, to an island in the middle of the ocean. It was somewhere she thought no man would ever reach. Clearly, she was mistaken.”

“So I can take you back! You can return with us!”

“If I did that, then I would forfeit the gift. I am only stopped from aging as long as I reside on this island. If I left it and returned on your boat, then I would begin to age normally again.”

“So what? That’s what everyone else does? What’s so bad about aging?”

“Well, if I age, then there’s a chance I die before I write something as good as Homer. I’ll pass away knowing that I didn’t live up to my potential.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s only been thirty years, and who knows when’s the next time that a ship is going to pass by here? You could still see your parents. Maybe they’re alive! Maybe you could see your sister!”

“Don’t. I made up my mind a long time ago. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to the curse. I’m not changing my mind after this much time.”

Outside, the sun was setting. The long shadow of a tree entered the cave, stretching across the ground, one of its branches just a few feet away from touching the woman.

“Well, that’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard! You’d rather sit here, alone in this cave than be with your family! How can you even say such a thing!” She stood up, now yelling down at me from above. I stood to match her.

“Don’t you have anything you want that badly?” I asked her. “Don’t you have a fire inside you that burns for greatness?”

“I have a fire inside of me called love, and I use it on my family. Everything else is only a simmering ember by comparison.”

“You don’t understand how it is. You’ve been surrounded by people who love you your whole life. I saw you last night walking with your crewmates. They adore you. I’m sure everyone does. You have no need for greatness, you were born with it. I thought you might understand.” I said, now tears welling up in my eyes.

“Well, you chose to be in this cave alone, so I won’t stand in the way of your wish.” She said, and stormed out. A small sound almost formed in my throat. I felt it swirling, like a typhoon, siphoning letters into the middle to form a word. I saw the word in my mind: ‘Wait’, but it lay still in the back of my throat. I thought about yelling out to her, but I looked back at the chest full of parchment, and all of the progress that I had made. Just a few more days, and this last story would be complete, I just knew it. This was the one. Once this one was done, then I’d be able to go back home to fame, and see my family again. I’d get to see the woman my sister had become.

I watched her get smaller, and the shadow of the branch of the tree on the ground was now at my feet. I stepped back to avoid it, as though it were made of something evil. The sun was practically touching the horizon. Her crewmates helped her up onto the ship, grabbing one of her arms each, and she disappeared behind the front of the boat. I wondered to myself if she had looked back, but it hardly mattered now. The ship detached from the shore, and disappeared over the horizon. I walked slowly back to the light of the fire, flattened the parchment on the ground, and continued to write.