Road 1

“What is this place?”, I thought. I don’t remember anything before I woke up here on this island. In the weeks since I haven’t found anyone else, not even any animals. I don’t know why, but this island I am on is desolate. And the only memories I have are of me waking up and stumbling around this island.

Day 21-
For the past three weeks I’ve made some crude tools to cut coconuts off the palm trees. I used a spearhead I found in the sand and tied it to a stick to make an axe. I also found an apple tree by a small lake, this island is very strange. I’ve used some seeds from the apples to plant more apple trees and even made an irrigation system, so I’ve been busy. Somehow I managed to find a sac of goods including flint ands steel, a proper axe, and some other tools and goods.

Obviously someone had been here, at some point or another, but who? And why? I made a small fire pit on the beach and would lay by it all night for warmth. Sometimes I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d stay up trying to collect any memories I had before this island, but I didn’t have any.

Day 30-
A ship of some kind appeared on the ocean, hopefully they will sail over here. Tonight I’ll try to gather some wood to make a bonfire. If I’m lucky they’ll see the smoke and rescue me.  Progress on my apple orchard is going well. Still no trees, but these things don’t happen overnight, although I wish they did.

I’ve been thinking about life before this island. I must have existed before because I’m 1. Already aged to about 25 years, I don’t really know for sure because I can’t even remember my age. And 2. Already know the basic skills of an experienced farmers, maybe I was a farmer before appearing on this island, I don’t know its just a thought.

More coming, soon. Update: I think the ship spotted me, and since then has adjusted its course for my island, I think.

A few hours later –

Oh no, they have guns, and don’t look happy. Umm, goodbye.

A Short Story A Week

Despite my better knowledge I am putting time constraints on my writing. Ya ya ya, the first post (if you go back and look) says that I had a desire to post once a week. And I found that to be putrid (an underused word, I think). So I erased all my posts and started over. I posted a couple more times and then stopped for about four months (depends).

But now I really enjoy writing, even if it isn’t good writing! And I find writing shorter stories easier, considering I haven’t become a “professional” writer, who knows if I ever will be?!?! But none of that matters, why? Because writing is something I enjoy, so I am going to do it. And who knows, one day, in the dreary future, I will be submitting my first book to a publisher… to get it turned down. But one can hope, and others can dream, and few can.


The Passerby

Here on the island there are two famous people. One is the mayor, and the other is me. I am a mailman, a passerby of mail. I fly out each Monday and Friday in my uncle’s helicopter to get the mail. We use to use a boat, but my nephew is getting his flying license. So twice a week I risk my life with a terrible flier to do what? Get mail.

Every Monday we leave sharp at four thirty in the morning so all the farmers can get their mail. I know that its stupid, but hey, I’m the most famous man on the island. Most of the time they don’t get any mail at all, let alone bills. But I take every chance I can to get off that island.

That island is the worst of the worst, think of it as a sewer’s garbage. There is absolutely nothing good about this island. So I have decided to leave. Over thirty years as an united states postal worker and I’ve finally earned enough money to move away, far away.

I’m taking my dog, my cat, my bird, and my TV. I’m going to free my bird once we get to the mainland, a promise I had given him when I found his wing clipped. It’s okay now since he has fully recovered. My cat will go to my grandfather that is coming down to visit me from Danburry. I think I will keep my dog, who cares? This is all nonsense crap that I’m sure no one cares about.

The point is, I am finally leaving. And never. Never. Coming back.

Because I can’t.

Ominous Pacipus

The raindrops were beating against the metal roof. The hail started to fall too. The storm had been active over a year on their little island. The ‘weatherman’ says that the storm should end any day now, but I don’t believe him.

“Storms like these are never over”, Sarah thought. “Just like hail they form bigger and bigger stones, and as soon as it forms, it pelts forward, tearing holes though everything in its path… I’m in its path, but I don’t want to move.”

I was home alone, bless my parents, and with the power out there was nothing to do but stare outside. A hailstone hit right outside my house, and then more started falling. One hit the window in my bedroom upstairs, but by now I was used to the destruction of hailstones so I wasn’t afraid.

Then one hit the family car, and made a huge dent in the rear of the car. Four more came flying from the sky and knocked out the windshield. I would have called my dad and told him how bad it was getting, but he wouldn’t be able to pick up because the telephone tower was knocked down.

I was sitting on the living room sofa looking out the window, and in a way the storm was beautiful. I don’t know why, but it was.

And then I stepped outside. One step at a time I walked into the heart of the storm. A hailstone flew around a tree and hit me square in the face, almost like someone had thrown it. Another striked me in my leg, and I fell over, clenching my leg. I sat alone. Crying. Waiting.

But no one came. By now three more hailstones hit in various spots on my body. I slowly got up. The hailstones were hitting with aim. Obviously someone was throwing it at me. I…

Another minute passed without getting hit by a hailstone. Maybe the person had left? I don’t know. Then I saw a car’s headlights approach me. I looked down, I was standing in the middle of the road, so I jumped to the side. The car drove past me, but as it did, I looked inside. My parents were in the car, and didn’t even see me.

You see my father is a, well was, a weatherman. Bit he lost his job years ago, same time when he got divorced. He was just an overall bad meteorologist. He incorrectly predicted the weather multiple once, and a kid got killed by lightning because of it. But none of that ‘matters anymore’ since dad has moved on with me to this new island. A year ago he got married again, and got a job as a cashier at the local store. He doesn’t ‘matter anymore’ now.

I screamed at them… telling them to stop and help me, but they didn’t. I asked myself what I was doing, and I didn’t know. Why don’t I just walk back to my cabin house. I’ve been walking straight, so I just have to turn around. But for a reason I can’t tell you, and never will tell you, I couldn’t go back.

And then one last hailstone fell from the sky. It curved around the tall redwood tree that i sometimes tried to climb, and hit me right on my temple. I was instantly killed.

Slowly and then all at once the storm dissipated. It lingered around the cabin and the town for a couple of days, and then left. And never. Never. Came back.


Amongst the several floating boats
There was a particularly large mote
They said don’t

Point at the flairs
The tears
The tares
The ever few mares

Stares at me
Hones in one me
Have a celestial revelation

Gaze through the days
Long forgotten
The maze
Long forgotten


Up the silver stairs
Through the mares
If you dare

And find the end
To your penultimate task
You take your flask
And don your mask


When you wait around
Fears Abound
Of what will be
And what could be

When you stop
And Spot the changes
It’ll only get worse

Worse for the Proud
The Humble
The Afraid
The Daring

Why force their way
Another day
Try their hardest
For Vnayas


I never said I love you
I never said goodbye
I don’t want to be another alibi

Sometimes I want to fly
Through the sky
When I die

Before I die
I’ll dye my clothes
Red lye on my robes
I’ll lie by and by
Even though I sigh and say goodbye

When you wonder
Why I wander
Through the sky
It’s because I want to die

I’ll fly to the sun
And burn
I’ll fly to the moon
Don’t be a fool
I’ll fly to worlds unknown
And weep for thee my Alibi
Don’t Lie

All things aside
When the tide abides
Suffer me Alibi


When I first started posting, I found that I did not like the posts I had written. In order to have a blog that I was happy with I deleted all my posts. Yes, they are gone. I will start over, focusing on quality of posts not on quantity. I set a goal to post every week, but now I feel that as ludicrous, considering they were mundane. Now, I am going to write the jibber jabber I want to write. I felt the stuff I wrote wasn’t really me. So thanks for reading.