The cold night air pushes past my body lying on the white sand beach. The sun has not come up yet; and more sleep has yet to be had. The problem with the whole thing is I cannot sleep when I am shivering just to keep my body temperature even. This whole concept of a tropical island makes no sense to me when the temperature drops in the middle of the night. It’s sad but I am going to be begging for humidity by morning.
Each hour passes second by second; every minute longer than the last. There is no way to explain sleep deprivation in this type of circumstance. It just comes naturally and with no warning I might add. I want to sleep, it just won’t happen. I’m not nervous of anything, or even excited; not that there is much to be excited about in a place such as this. There might be such a comparison to jet lag off an airplane in a foreign country.
I roll over, hoping for sleep to consume me. Minutes pass; and the ever glowing moonlight fades into the pitch black night. Then the wind finally dies down enough to stop begging for day to come. There really is nothing to beg for in the first place; just a luscious spirit fulfilling blue sky that brightens any dark day. We don’t have those! I have only been here one day. That was a hot miserable day; I should have known night would bring the worst out of anything. What can I expect for tomorrow?
If I could change the past, then none of this would have happened. I would be a free man, to do as I please, to walk where I please, to talk how I please. It’s all within an arm’s reach now; and nothing will stop me. Nobody has walked a mile in my shoes. It was a tough life growing up; I should be happy I haven’t done anything too bad. That I did sane anyway; and let me tell you I have been insane for a while.
My eyes slowly shut; embracing the black night, giving in to the dark, dreaming of the morning blue. Dark silhouettes dance conspicuously around the palm tree trio, my soon to be home. Casting chants at it, raining some vicious voodoo that I obviously want no part of. My first impression is demons, but they look like the dead. They could possibly be previous owners of this fine establishment. It sparks my interest immediately; and I begin to feel drawn to them, like their pulling me over to chant with them. I have no reaction, for I will not be corrupted so easily. There persistence is relentless. I start to feel weak all over.
The words appear to have power over my body, moving parts on my body without my acceptance. They flail my limbs in different directions trying to achieve something. Words leave my tongue that I had no idea I knew. Screams parade out of my mouth controlling every other dancer’s actions. If I had no concern, now would be the time to overreact. They control me again; I have no time to refuse govern over my body.
The dead begin to move their mouths, but no words come out. Then they start to walk in the other direction away from the palm trees. I think they expect me to follow them, but I have no desire too. Then my body speaks for itself and walks step by step toward the group of the dead. I pick up a knife, specifically placed in the middle of the trio; then start walking again, following but never leading the dead. My pace matches theirs directly, almost like a marching order; and all of this begins to feel real similar. I have been in marching orders before, you know, back in prison.
The dead have silent footsteps that go undetected in the jungle surrounding their parade; and nothing seems to know they exist except me. I could be the only one creating their existence; and that is corruption itself. The cult of the dead leads me further into the jungle, disappearing into every shadow and reappearing into every ray of moonlight; twisting my point of view further. They cast voices into my thoughts, disturbing the already disturbed. My emotions begin to cloud my judgment; and I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Their bodies begin to fray with every second in the light. Then they start to crumble beneath their own feet. This could have happened earlier, so why didn’t it? Nothing makes sense anymore; it is all a game to side track me. My body loosens from their tight grasp. I feel free and with ownership of my own maneuverability. The feeling slowly fades as my dead captors build their bodies back up in front of my dazed eyes. I try to run; but once again too late.
My own captivity is what fuels me to get away from literal captivity. I urn for freedom; but I just get chained down. The hope that is left standing is very slim; and I don’t know if it’s enough to get me through. Before it was just prison, now captured by the dead! The worst has come, and once again without warning. With corruption at bay; my sanity is diminishing. The hope left standing is that I have a chance for a new life; granted by my own self related catalyst.
I look at the reforming dead, disgusted by what I see; and appalled that nature has allowed for such an abomination. There was no logic in allowing such a dirty deed. The sight would make children cry; and grown men wince. It’s not at all human; and only the government would place human beings on an island with a creature like these. I want off the island! Someone get me out of here!
The dead dance again, only this time circling me. This worship is satanic; I refuse to be a part of it! Why can’t I govern my own body? I would run as far away as possible, then regain my bearings, and then run further. There is only one way out of something like this. I am going to have to give in, and then push myself out. The dead have their matches set.
I collapse onto the ground, waiting for their next move. They stand there expecting me to get back up; but I don’t flinch. Then they carry out their dance once again; I cannot shake them. This will never end! One giant nightmare comes to life, again without warning. Why does this place haunt me? Have I done something so bad, so evil that I deserve torture without bail? I don’t understand; and I don’t think I ever will.
My body begins to reflect their motions once again. This time I cave, not even putting up a fight. It’s over; I’m done fighting for a dead cause. With no help; there is no hope. I have decided to let the dead have me. Corrupt my body, and mingle with my past; changing me into one of them. The hopeless, the damned; you pick! It is what I am now. Nobody can change their race against fate. I’m done dealing with forgotten loyalty. I have been loyal to the cause; and with no help, what do I do? I break down! I give in! It’ what both want! I feel like I am being ripped into two half’s. Good versus Evil and good left a long time ago.
The time has come to choose between right and wrong; and I’m not ready to answer. I won’t be for a long time. The dead pick my body up and carry it to a grass circle surrounded by sand. My eyes swipe side to side accessing the situation; and it is not good. One of the dead picks up a stake and places it in both of my hands. Then I sit up staring at the bodies. They turn and look directly toward the stake. Then their faceless faces become all too real. Their facial structures begin to morph into actual faces instead of shadows. I look away intent on not seeing that reconstruction again.
Their faces form; and I just stare. They look so similar! How can this be? They died a long time ago. Their right in front of my face and I cannot believe this. This is my chance to right the past. Their faces stare at me right back. I reach up and touch them, wanting answers for how it’s possible. They pull my hands off their faces and grab the stake. Then shove it into my heart, watching the blood pour out. I try to think, but vengeance is all that can be thought of. I did it to them so it’s only fair. My mouth fills with blood, and I cough it out. I start to reach toward them; and their faces disappear. Then they glide back into the shadows leaving me to die on the grass circle.
My head starts to spin. The blood loss is beginning to take effect. I grasp the ground, counting every throb through the hole in my chest; wanting to go sooner, but not being granted my dying wish. The night sky appears to be brighter, and the moon seems to fade. Morning has time to come, and I may see it for the last time. Sunrise is far more beautiful through dying eyes. Every breath taken in and out is weightless. The wind is ice cold, and the heat is feverish. I will go soon.
My eyes burst open through another black nightmare filled night. Only to be greeted by a bright blue sky. I reach up and wipe the sweat off my brow, concerned for my safety. There is nothing around me, there never was. The repetitive heart race is over; and nothing dead was ever near me. I just don’t get dreams, or their meanings. All though, that one will always be held extra special to me; it obviously means something. That something better not happen soon.
I stand to my feet admiring the ocean. There is nothing more beautiful than a rising sun over curvy water bliss. Not even the wild flowers getting grazed by the swarming blue birds. Not even the splash of coconut water against my cool soft lips. These things cannot be taken away, not even through a nightmare. If they can, just try me!
Thirst strikes my body as I turn to find shade. Then I reach for a coconut, finding bliss, and satisfaction. I turn to stare at what looks like a body; but then it disappears only to encourage my wild imagination. I am seeing things again. This won’t help anything! The thought of more people actually being here begins to become more lucid.

There are only so many times a conversation can be said; and I have had the same conversation going in my head for the last few days. I just feel so alone. Nobody is around to keep me company; who knows when I will mentally break down. It just seems so cruel to place a person on an island by their self. Who does that? Grant, that’s who, I despise that guy. Why would he do this to me?
The thought crosses my mind a thousand times; I still can’t find an answer. There are just so many boundaries to cross for this to happen. They think because I was in prison they can do whatever they want to me! Well that’s not humane. My whole world as I know it has been flipped upside down. My life was supposed to change; but they keep me in solitary isolation. This is just a bigger hell hole then what I jumped out of. They tricked me; and I don’t like it.
I watch the sun cast shadows across the white sand through the blanket of palm trees. Nothing moves in or out of sight; and only the birds can be heard from the beach. The water splashes on my legs; I just sit there getting soaked. Sand cushions my hands; they would get raw from scraping the grains without it. I begin to get comfortable, not wanting to move a muscle. The whole spiel is similar to what I have done pretty much every day since I have got here. Nothing changes without friendly faces to influence difference.
Days pass, hours fly by, and minutes laugh in my face; or at least that’s how I have feel. It is just so slow over here. I feel imprisoned in my own mind; and being prisoner to your own conscience is a scary thought. It has been pretty well established that I can do just about anything I put my crazy mind too. Now that type of thinking is influencing my every move. My insanity is near breaking point.
The sun bakes my skin, burning it, and blistering it. I roll into the shade feeling the pain, and getting excited to feel something. My emotions seem to fade as the silence begins to reign. This has become difficult to live with. I’m not going to lie; suicide has crossed my mind a few times. That would really shake things up for them, now wouldn’t it?
I just wish I could come back to reality, knowing the things I used to know. That’s obviously not possible; and after this incident, they won’t even want to take me off the island. I know nothing about living in a society. I couldn’t even live in it my first time through it. Why would I sign myself up for this? It is not me; it’s the corrupted agreeing to corruption. It is I giving in further, looking worse, and gaining nothing. I know I have said it a million times; but what the hell is wrong with me?
The trees become a throw pillow to my sore back as I lean against my cozy palm. Groans seep from my mouth as I turn; my back is seriously sore. I don’t know what I did to it, as I think harder the sun reminds me of my stupidity. Burns cover my body from head to toe, and everywhere in between. There is no aloe, so my burns will remain inflamed. That’s just my luck!
My body appears to grow thicker the more days I spend with the tropical paradise allusions. Yeah paradise is one perspective, the food is heavenly. I have not complained once about the food; because I do love coconut. There is nothing better than coconut water and a shady spot under some palms to watch the ocean take its anger out on the helpless white sand beach. If you think of something tell me!
The sad fact of living alone is that you can only complain about it to yourself. It turns into an internal conflict between what you want and what you need; and at this point I don’t care because all of them will be needs real soon. So the conflict is really just an argument between all the right answers; like I said before, I am going crazy! Talking to myself is one thing; but completely arguing is a way different. There is just no turning back from this experience. The damage has been done!
It’s not really funny but I have considered mutiny. That’s bad when you’re the one in charge, no wait, that’s bad when you’re the only person there! It feels like a constant circle of confusion; I know I am losing everything. Other people would lose their composure by now; well I didn’t have composure to begin with; so give me credit. No wait; credit would be surviving on the island for this long, just give me my freedom!
My body begins to shake; I’m breaking down all over. Sweat drips off my face onto my arms as I lay my head on them. Tears slowly emerge, and heavy breathing following the quick tears. I grab the sand and throw it at the palm trees, then I stand up and wipe the tears from my face; pretending nothing happened. I am a man; men don’t cry. I think about how all the guys from prison would have stood there and pointed and laughed at my invulnerability. There is no more breaking points.
I constantly think about how I could end it all; but then constantly remember that living is the price that I must pay for my past. My wrong doing brought me here; it keeps me here all the same. The shame keeps my lungs pumping, and the guilt keeps my blood flowing. I just wish I had a person to compare tragedies; after all, that is what my life is. A tragedy, the one thing people die to hear; and nobody could ever know the cost of that one person’s epic tragedy, most of the time it is there life, this tragedy has to end differently. I have no choice.
I take off running into the jungle, not knowing what I am doing. I can’t think clearly, or process my intention. The unknown possesses my body controlling my actions; I am just along for the ride. It could be dangerous, life threatening; and I won’t care until it happens. There is my basic need for thrill, but finding adventure instead; what an epic tragedy. It has to be what is right for me, nothing less than a fight to be free.
It becomes clear, hunting down the enemy. The one who talked me into being thrown into this place; casted me into a demon filled hell. The guy, who cheats every person out here, persuades helpless victims with their own personal lust. Grant he won’t survive if he steps foot on this place. His domain has been confiscated. I own it now, took control, erased his law and created my own. I dare him to mess with me now. Just try me!
The jungle hides the way I came from, and the maze devours its victim a second time. Time will be important, I only have so much; it’s my life or death. The water, the heat, the creatures, the nightmares, the lack of food! I panic, not wanting a second round with the elements. The first didn’t go in my favor. I have doubts about round two, or even survival.


The point of no return has long passed, and the only thing pressing me forward is that I cannot remember the way back. It’s not safe, here or there really. Not even on my own paradise beach; and it seemed secure, until the nightmares hit. The true reality could be that the whole island is insecure, no that’s fact. It is my job making it secure for myself. I created that nightmare, it has to mean something. Well my witch hunt continues.
A hunt is a maniacal way of putting it. I’m searching for the truth, or creating my own answers. It doesn’t matter either way; I’m dependent on either one. I tell it straight; the only thing I’m finding is circles to jump through, or tails to chase. Although it does feel like I have found the beaten path. My one direction that goes straight instead of taking endless left turns. It’s too bad that it disguises itself so well, what could I suspect from fate?
I stop walking and crouch down to catch my breath and keep the blood flowing through my aching body. The pain throbs through every ligament in my knees, and my calves’ burn with every step. My desire to soldier on weakens, and the need to push through the pain heightens. Stone cold will is what makes me pursue this journey so hastily. I don’t know if I have any left, as it slowly burns away.
Thinking tough is what caries my weight through this journey; and tough only lasts until tough is beaten down. I just wonder how much lower I can slip before I pick myself up. How can I defeat others until I stop defeating myself? I determine the outcome of every misdirected footstep, or corrupted thought, or confused gesture. There just seems to be two sides of me and I can’t tell them apart. There the same, and yet they think so differently. Face it; I have gone insane.
A voice shreds through the wild animals arguments, and carries into my ears. Words, sounds, tones, they all sound so real; it can’t be true. I fall to my knees again; wanting a human body to run through the bushes and shriek at their discovery. Nothing happens, and no words are clear or understandable. I can’t even make out the type of language it is; all I know is that it is getting closer. Then I pick up a few of the words. Insane, crazy, delusional, the words ring my ears and provide answers I already have. They are nothing I don’t already know; about who is the question though?
I turn toward the voice and see nothing; it whispers secrets that only I should know; things I have never told anybody else. Pressure holds down my temples and earlobes, forcing pain through my head and words that create images of pure evil. I collapse to the ground, spinning in circles listening to the voice corrupt and scare. I can only imagine the voice as a person similar to my own picture. The guy has been wronged in so many ways that he portrays wrong, and speaks only of dismay. It feels like my other half; the one who was left in prison to rot and die with the psychologist.
The voice is clear now, forcing me to believe that silence is the enemy. I listen to it speak, not controlling my own mouth; but words come out. “Lex, what are you doing?” It questions my intentions; how do I respond to nothing? I retort back unclear on my own intentions. “I am searching for answers!” The voice hesitates as I move my lips. “Why do you look for answers when you already know the truth?” My patients wear thin, and I grow angry over the questions that appear to have dual meanings. “Stop asking questions; answer mine now!” My lips stop moving, and I retaliate with my own questions. “Who are you? I can’t see you; so how do I know if you even exist.” The voice regains command, and out sterns my voice. “You know me, like I know you. We are perfect for each other Lex.” I shake the pain out of my temple; then raise my eyebrows toward the sky curious to find the voice. There is nothing but bright blue, and gray clouds; two things that don’t belong together.
My eyes cross over the tall brown and green trees searching for the mysterious voice; but there is nothing out of the ordinary. It just disappeared, without a warning, with no way to track it down. I can only wonder how fast you have to be to speak clearly and flee without ever being seen. This just doesn’t make sense, not that anything else really has either. I don’t know what to do, or even where to start looking. The voice was cast from all around me in every direction, and my head was spinning also. How will I find the voice; and better yet who is the voice?
The voice could be any number of things, and I have a decent amount of hunches. There is one substantial thing that stood out to me, and it was that his voice sounded almost like mine. I couldn’t tell though; I was spinning so damn fast. It was like a sickness or a plague; it swept through, did its business, and then disappeared. The timing of the whole thing was too perfect. I almost feel like if I got the voice to come out into the open field, then I could identify it.
I begin to get weak at the thought of dealing with the sickness of the voice once again. It has to be done though, to get results anyway. The spinning and the dizziness is too much to deal with; that will have you down for a while. This just being the truth of the matter, how is all of this even possible? That’s the thing, it’s not! Nobody just disappears, or has a voice without general direction. This is a huge mess, and I know who to blame it on.
Every second I spend out here in the jungle, my intentions get less and less clear. Why did I even leave my beach paradise? There are no more people out here. That voice is just my imagination messing with my already worn down conscience. I guess it would be good if I headed back to the beach. Now the problem would be finding my way back. Let’s see, navigating the stars, or animal tracks.
The trees block every way I look, so I can only see a few feet in front of my face. Their branches scrape and claw at my skin; they want to hurt me like everything else in this world. The sun still seems to find a way to burn through the tree tops and raise blisters on my shoulders and back. Then the wind blows past my ears only to cause burns all over my ear lobes. This day keeps getting better and better.
The beach can only be so far back, and I have this feeling I am getting close. I keep walking past the trees, and then past the rocks, and the bushes; nothing ever changes in the scenery. The temperature stays the same, blistering hot. Then the humid air travels down my throat only to make me cough and hate this place even more then I already do; but hey what can I do, that’s being stranded for you. Now that I think of it; I have been stranded before, in many ways caged to my emotions and dead personality.
Light starts vanishing in front of the trees; and I know dusk is approaching. My eyelids get heavier, and my body harder to push. The energy I once had is all but gone, the need to press forward only remains. Too bad it is a dead cause, forgotten and without need anymore. Let the jungle take me, my sanity is gone! I don’t have reason to live. They have taken everything from me.