John drew his knife and slashed at the granite cliff in one smooth movement. He sheathed his knife, paused, and then he did it again. He had made a habit of doing this, his only source of enjoyment on this damned island. He stepped back to view his handiwork. Before him was a woman’s face in granite, somewhat rough but features clearly discernible. To his left along the cliff wall were similar carvings, each progressively less detailed until the furthest ones resembled nothing more than a crude, bulging mass of stone. He was getting good at this.

He stood there staring at the woman’s face. Vaguely in the back of his mind, he registered that it had begun raining. Yet he stood still, not moving a muscle. Eventually he spoke out loud amidst the pouring rain, “I’m never going to see you again.”. There was no response.

Four years he had been trapped on this island, ever since his plane went down. He had been lucky to survive. Yet sometimes he wished that he hadn’t. The first days were the hardest, as the reality of his situation had dawned on him. The fight to survive. To learn how to feed and provide for himself in an unforgiving environment that did not care for him. He had struggled greatly. Yet now he has settled into a routine. His greatest enemies today? Loneliness. Boredom. He had begun stone carving, desperate not to forget the faces of those he had loved. To make it harder on himself, he carved the stone one slice at a time, sheathing his knife between each strike. He liked to think the carving in front of him was a close representation of the real thing, but he couldn’t be sure. It had been so long that his memory had grown blurry.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Eliza. He wondered what she was doing now. Did she still think about him? Had she moved on to someone else? That would be for the best. He was never getting off this island. 

He tilted his head up, rain pouring down his face, deep in thought.

System initialized. Tutorial protocol engaged. Planetary merging will now begin. 

John flinched, looking around anxiously. What was that? 

“Wh-who’s there?” he stammered. His voice had grown weak from disuse. 

Was he hallucinating? He knew he was alone on this island. He had checked thoroughly.

Automated difficulty selection has begun. Player is being assessed...

Nightmare difficulty selected. Good luck, player.

Suddenly his vision blurred and he felt a sense of vertigo. John was thrown to the ground...