By: Taliesin Tyndall
You probably couldn't pronounce mine. You see, I'm not from here. If you went some 22o West, 12o north, 382o East and another 6o South, you'd still be pretty far. But, anyhow, longjalatitude aside, let's just call me Philip Jones. Back then I lived on a small island in some unexplored corner of the map.There were others there, too. Several in fact. A whole tribe even. There must have been something like seventy of us living there, eating mostly yams.
I wasn't at the top of our little tribe; and I wasn't at the bottom, just Damn near it!
There's something else you should know about me, though: a secret I stopped telling people when I was eight. It all happened just a year or two after I came back from the other side; back when I was still a suckler. That's the night I disappeared.
No one knows just what happened. For three days I was gone. And then one morning I came back. Dressed in the oddest clothing, I just strolled into town, a strange scar on my cheek and umbilical hole, and ran right up to my mother's tit. To this day, no one knows where I went. No one but me that is.
Clear as the first smile my father gave me as he cut my cord, I can still remember that night...and those faces. Those strange faces. Pale as death, with eyes as blue as the sky and hair like the sun it holds.
He was quite old, it seemed. How she even knew of him I never learned. He had been one of the first explorers to find other islands like our own. He himself, it was said, had found twelve islands. None, as always, had held life. For years he had been a well known explorer. His arms and eyes were sought after, and many a chief would have given him their daughter for him to find a new island in the chief’s name.
But then something vary strange had happened to him, too. One day he sailed home alone, having left with five more, and started raving like a lunatic about blond eyed, blue haired monsters. My teacher mumbled something about him saying they had taken all the others.
Then she said that that's all she knew. Moments later she had shuffled away and I was alone.
A month later I saw that helpful teacher again and ran up to her after a class on yam growing. Reluctantly, once more, she yielded and told me of a small cliff where he was said to fish.
The next day that's right where I went. For three days I sat on an uncomfortably sharp rock. Then at last I heard a rustle from behind. A gnarled, grizzly and bearded old coot emerged from the bushes. For a moment I hid, but in time I showed myself. He was unsurprised at my reveal, having seen me by my long, flowing hair as he crept through the woods to his fishing spot. Then we began to talk.
At first he was suspicious as to who I was yet as I told him my story, who I was, and why I was there, he grew more friendly. In time he even began to tell his own story. It seemed that he had indeed discovered twelve islands. Four of them now had colonies. But on only one of them he found something vary odd. He had found a flower. At this I was a back taken. I had been Told all my life that, of all the many islands we had found, none had been found with any life.
Then I regained myself and asked hurriedly if he could take me to it. He laughed and said nay! It had been far from there and what's more, his fellows had destroyed it. Again I was taken aback. He said that he had told the others on his expedition of it. He said that they feared being called mad, and so trampled it into the sea. But his story continued.
Years later something even stranger happened. This time at sea. He and five others had been eight days out to sea from one of our newest and most distant colonies. No land had been sighted, and the food they'd brought was running low. They were just about to turn their dugouts when they saw a light. At first they had thought it lightening, but it didn't go away. Hours passed, and the light had only grown closer. Then all six had decided to go and find it. But it found them.
It should have taken at least a day to reach it, but the light was moving towards them fast as a monsoon. As such, it was still dark when they found the light to be a ship of sizes unimagined.
At first they took it for a monster; shiny scales spouting clouds like a volcano as it were. But then they saw strange men atop it, and knew it to be a craft as their own.
The gnarled, old coot said with a sigh that they'd then sneaked into the beast. Only he had ever come back. The rest had been killed, or otherwise taken, by the strange things with corpsly hued skin, daisy hair and ocean eyes.
That's when the old coot stopped. None of the island chiefs had ever given him a boat again. We talked a while longer, till it grew dark and late and I went home.