The salt water stung as we splashed it over the numerous cuts all over his body. He decided that today was the last day he would try to hunt boar. Fish seemed like a safer food to him. Less chance of serious injury, he believed.

It was wasn’t boar that caused his current condition, but the fall off the cliff and into the thorn bushes while running away from the animal that he failed to kill and only pissed off that left him worse for wear.

Definitely fishing tomorrow, he thought. Fishing seemed more like the pirate thing to do anyways.

He thought of himself as the worse pirate ever as he drifted away from what was once his ship. The crew left port with him on a quest to find Blackbeard’s hidden treasure, but things had not gone as planned. After months out at sea and no other ships in sight, they still had not found Blackbeard’s haven and the crew was not happy. Displeasure led to anger and anger to mutiny. Luckily he was able to talk them into the dinghy.

“At least now I have time to contemplate the mysteries of life,” he thought was he drifted further away.

Riding on a wave, as the tide came in, the dinghy drifted onto the beach and finally came to rest on the sand as the wave receded. It wasn’t until after the sun had set that the sole occupant crawled his way out of the boat and onto the beach.

Starving, thirsty, and badly sun burnt; unknown days adrift at sea had taken their toll on him, but he no longer cared. He was finally back on dry land and that’s all that mattered at the moment. If he was still alive in the morning he would worry about food then.

The pirate threw a few more pieces of wood into his signal fire to keep it going a few more hours, but he was beginning to lose hope that someone would come to his rescue. He had been shipwreck for a week now or was it two. It didn’t really matter since he had somehow lucked out when he washed up on this island.

Various fruits and edible plants were everywhere and tasty. Well, all except that purple thing he ate the other day; that thing nearly killed him. There were even animals to eat if you could just catch one.

He sat, staring at the computer screen, but nothing would come to mind. He ran his fingers over the keys and even tapped a finger on one or two of them. He never hit any of them hard enough to make something come up on the screen though. He was a blank and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get any ideas to come forth. How was he going to commit suicide if he couldn’t even write out his suicide note? He reached over and flipped off the monitor. Guess I will just go to bed instead, he thought.

He has been there so long that plant life has taken root in his flesh. No one knows how long he has been waiting or even what he is waiting for. He has always just been there, unmoving. Many believe shear will to wait is what has kept him alive for so long as stories of the man have been past down for generations. Some say he waits for his love, others believe he waits to witness the end of times, and still others believe he can no longer remember why he waits. If asked, “I must wait” is his answer.

He snatched up the knife up as he picked himself up off the ground and faced his tormentor.  They looked at each other as he tightened his grip on the handle.

In his mind, he stood at a fork in the road.  One road he knew meant turning the other cheek and walking away.  He knew it was the right thing, but also believed that things wouldn’t change for him.  The other, darker road pulled to him though.  The road he felt would change things forever.

He took the darker path and felt reborn as the life left the tormentor’s eyes