Before I start I would like to remind you that I don’t have a comma.. so I will be using “..” (Double full stops) instead.
Laying on the ground thinking “What can I do?” The answer does not arise. There is no solution. I guess you just can’t change what is meant to be.
The sun mocks me as it slowly awakes. On this island there are trees as white as the cigarette which is jammed between my chapped lips. I look around me.. surveying the beauty of Uzereck… the mountain I am on. Some may call it an Island. Some may call it fake. It’s real. Uzereck continues it’s never ending pilgrimage across the earth.. and forever will. Gazing across the land.. I wonder where to strike next.
I am looking for a precious jewel called Sittrium. Last time I checked.. scientists were offering thirty-billion for one kilogram of it. Only one small shard was found in all of humanity. It had fallen off of Uzereck. By the end of my journey I will have my thirty-billion.. and those scientists will have their pay too. Searching a forest-covered floating island is a lot harder than it sounds. There isn’t just the concept of being 200 feet in the air and could come spiraling down at any second to my doom.. there is also the oxygen to deal with. When I was born.. in 2006.. I always wanted to be a treasure hunter. I always wanted the name “Aksel Finley” to go down in history. 27 years later I still hold that dream close to my heart.. except now I have a grip on it. This could be my first success. I discard the stick of death I have been inhaling on for the past few minuets and hop down from the rock that I was perched on and start my search. Oxygen flows from the 3-centimeter large canister holstered on my thigh. The oxygen is compressed by five-thousand times.. I had the whole equivalent of three months air in this masterpiece. I’m on my last day.
After around 4 hours or so of hypnotic footsteps crunching against the frosted grass.. I stop. I have nearly reached my destination. The pulse of the Sittrium gets louder. As days go past on this island of wonder and deceit.. I start to question if this Sittrium is real. I start to question if anything is real. The air I breath.. the family I had. The pulse of the Sittrium is like the bang of a constant drum in my head. It’s blue pulse painted in my mind. I continue my journey. The throbbing of the Sittrium in my head gets louder.. as I further trek up the mountain of Uzereck. Reaching the top.. the beat of the Sittrium roars louder.. louder.. louder every second. I can’t bear it anymore. I tear open my satchel.. exposing the leather bag of which carries the monster. I pull the string attached.. unfolding the bag. The sinister shard of cyan flares at the recital of the pulse. I catapult the shard of Sittrium at the rocky mountain ground where I stand.. shattering it into a million pieces. The pulse ends. Relieved.. I fall to my knees. I slump into the most comfortable position I could find.. then relax. For once in 30 days.. the pulse stops. I watch the shrapnel of the Sittrium glimmer in the early morning sun. The familiar.. yet unwelcome.. pulse slowly returns.. this time quiet. The pulse is coming from inside my head. I put my head close to the Sittrium.. hoping for the noise to get stronger.. the opposite of what my hope is doing. No difference. Maybe the pulse was from my head. Maybe I’m going insane. Maybe I am insane. I look at the shattered chance of my dream called Sittrium.. and wonder if I’m insane.
Laying on the ground.. thinking “What can I do?” The answer does not arise. There is no solution. I guess you just can’t change what is meant to be.
