It rocked ever so steadily, basking in the sinking sun behind the horizon. To and fro the tiny boat croaked, playing victim to the waves that judged its course. The shimmering water gave reflection and cover to the depths below. It was merely an illusion, the abyss that was the Nomans sea paid this dingy no assurance of safety for land was but a dream to those on board, if any.

Dried by the salt and sun and the wind, the deck showed no life or signs of a man to guide it. The singular sail sagged in the ocean breeze for capturing was a duty beyond its life -punctured with holes and littered with droppings of gulls that perched on its mast.

Pale towards black was the body or thing that laid unmoving and disorientated on the only opening in this boat. It scarcely resembled a man and nothing of living and catered to being more of a shell of what it once was.

The odour that assaulted nostrils had they been present was putried to the lungs. But whisked away by the ever lasting chills brought by gales and currents the feathery cannibals did not flee.

The gulls picked at the complimentary meal that accompanied their unhindered stay on the boat, but each to their own paid unwarranted eager interest in the potential traps that lurked with every nibble like mice to cheese in a trap that faltered to spring. 

Captured as tiny spectacles of dust in front of the dimming light that shadowed its reaches, the hoards of flies hovered and gravitated towards and around the deck. The swarms would descend to pilfer their share each time an area was unattended by the more dominant predators lurking above.

And now to late for the unlucky passenger was it that the tides of the sea graced this tiny boat forward towards a shore that seemed to garner no signs of life, or so that would be as is as darkness was now sky and earth and sea. Overhead, the stars glittered and glistened and would have guided this sailor lost at sea if not for the state he was in. The sockets that once housed eyeballs, not so much as stared but glared upwards as if each were staring at each others endless pits that laid bare; the unnatural holes that filled with flies and the endless forever in the skies.

The nightly buzz of crickets and coos resonated so strongly from the dense bushes and forests of the island that even the crashing of waves that met with the hull of the small boat could not outweigh its hum. An island defined by the very definition of mysterious was the surface of what it was in the starlight.

The boat that had steadily rocked in the waters now jumped and skipped with each out going wave produced by the moon and the shores. With every outwards push an inwards pull lulled the boat towards the shores ever so slowly, where it finally tipped to its side upon reaching the sandy beaches. The gulls that hitched a ride were now free and forcibly as the quick halt frightened them to land.

The mast which hung above now weighed more than it could handle at its side. It billowed in the gastly wind that came with nightfall where land met sea. Like the felling of a great oak tree to lightning, the mast snapped at its base and echoed the sound of thunder as it hit the rising waters throughout the pitch blackness of the island. Creatures of many that fell to bed to the workings of the day flocked out of high ending trees in masses and those with more legs than three scampered in the dark with haste to areas that provided better safety from the unknown. But those with less than three and no feathers in sight forming wings for flight paid no heed to such a sound that could wake even the near deaf, for the birds that clapped and the creatures that scattered compounded the felling by folds. Deceived by previous nights of flashing skies and thunderous clouds, the overbearing attention sought by the arrival of the small boat could not instill any change in this particular man from his nightly hibernations. 

Unattended and unasuming was the man that laid bare back to the cushions of the soggy river moss beneath. He had suffered enough through the mid summer night heats and ventured to stay in the cool draught, away from his shack.

In the darkness where things from imagination lurked ready to scare, he did not pay mind. Many nights he had spent on this island -more nights than one could ever dream of aquiring in their short lifetime. Anything that valued his worth of a fright was something far more sinister than any mortal would wish to handle and he knew that such were none on this island he roamed.

The river beside, no more than ten hand spans in width trickled with rhythm between sand and pebbles and painted his dreams sweet like a lullaby to a baby. Insects that sought a feast of his blood received swift deaths from the unatural instincts guided by urges to satisfy itches.

He moaned and groaned with delight to the entrancing dreams that warped in his mind. Sudden bouts of laughter erupted dousing creatures with further layers of fright. A smirk that reeked of less than delightful intentions washed his face with wrinkles.

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Only when his laughters came to a climax and his bottom let out an assault to the ears and nose did he endeavour to wince his eyes open. His sudden disgust at his own undoings had made him sit up and wriggle about to release the pent up gas below while fanning his hands up by his face. 

Rustling his hair and rubbing the sores of his eyes from a healthy sleep enhanced his senses to their norms. He felt quite relieved that the sleep was not so bad save for the time of the day he had awoken himself. Pitch black morning. It was too early to set up utilities for a morning dive for breakfast.

Stretching his arms high above his head he rolled to his side and continued until he found himself sinking in the shallow river all over. Like a coconut rolling down the edge of a cliff. The shiver inducing water washed him from head to toe and flowed as so. Perching his face above the shallows and ears below he fell silent and gathered, soothed by the flow. Meditation was a task and one he quite enjoyed to be completed before each day began.

He lowered his lids to a close but not quite complete to avoid visual disturbance to his calm state.

Peeking from the small slits between the lashes, the hue above lightened with time. From black to grey to red to orange to blue. Drowned in the deafening trickles of the river did time drift by uncounted. 

Hours had passed by where moving was nil and the occasional snores could be heard. Guilty was the one who fell asleep most days to the gentles of the river meditation.

Finally feeling more spirited after a healthy dose of napping in the river did he find the enthusiasm to go about the day.

"Did you find your sleep to be as good as mine Twenty-six?" He asked whilst tilting his head out of the water to the right where a lone human skull stripped of all flesh sat facing the forest. "You kept this One from disturbance last night, so for that I thank you." He followed with, all the while motioning to himself with a quick flick of the arm and thumb.

Settling himself from the currents he made his way towards the shack. "Ah, good morning Twenty-two. Fine day, is it not?" He gestured to whilst passing without halt, another raw skull no different to the previous resting on the ledge of a nearby hollow log. 

"AH! Nineteen! There's something crawling inside you. Let me help you cleanse." He crept by the third skull in the line of many that laid out on the log and poked his fingers in between the jaws of Nineteen to grab ahold of the elongated bug that writhed in pain as he crushed it between his finger tips. "Better."

The shack was homely but with standards, it was merely a roof of dead leaves and slabs of moss. Three walls of branches sprayed about to shield himself from the harsh weather and a large tree trunk as the fourth wall and an entrance to one half side. He had decided to move to this area and start anew only a couple of days ago for when he stayed at bay previously he felt discontent after familiarising himself with the surroundings, but truth be told, he knew every nook and cranny of this island like the back of his hand. 

Once inside, he undressed and lobbed all that was left of the protection that he wore to a corner: a pair of pants drenched to the brim.

A stack of clothing or more so patches of fabric resembling the sort dyed in different palettes stood amound in a second corner. Unbothered by the sorry state they were in and the dirt and grime that smothered them, he picked one out to robe himself with.

"Thirteen, your humble gifts will not be laid to waste. I shall wear your most beloved today and tomorrow and so forth." He whispered to himself for Thirteen was ages gone with the wind and earth to assist in the circle of life involuntarily. 

He slipped on the not so fresh pair of pants layered in the colours of gold had they been clean but now displayed a dirty bronze, and wrapped his torso and neck with the unsurprisingly dirty top to match.

Fresh from the early morning tan in the river and the donning by his standards a clean set of clothes, he felt ever so ready to begin his day which at this moment consisted of nothing particularly amusing. He slicked his short brown hair back and picked at his stub before setting off.

"Twenty! My honest friend. Would you perhaps care to join me on my travels today? I'll be setting my sights on the shores to be on the look out for fish that care naught for their life and more for mine." He picked up Twenty that sat by a stump at the open and held it between his hips like a lady would with a large round tub, strolling off.

If animals could convey messages to humans in a language to be understood. All that have had to witness this madman this morning and many mornings before would tell it as so. But with this particular man he was neither mad nor stupid. To him, interaction was what kept him sane. 

The ramblings of this man was merely to keep his thoughts in check and most importantly is mind in equilibrium. The silence of one is one who thinks too much, and he knew that thinking for eternity without a word to be had would drive him to insanity.

The late morning sun grew strong in the summer season, especially on an island isolated by the vastness that surround. The battering of nature wore him thin somedays. He weaved through, over and under hanging branches, tight crevices between trees and trees that laid bare their roots.

Careful as he was with Twenty, no physical harm could befall the skull as it now sat cradled at his chest like a mother feeding its newborn. He held Twenty so dearly as if it were a bone with a spirit and soul.  

"We're nearly there Twenty."

He had taken this route before, but that was many centuries ago when the path that lead to the shores and back was clear of blockades unlike it is today. He shoved the final ropes of vine away to his side to reveal the breeze that was hid away by the dense build of nature. It looked pristine. Mounting forward with Twenty in hand, he opened his arms wide and free to the winds that dried his beads of sweat. And to the corner of his eyes, he spied the wreckage that arrived last night.