An aftermath had happen from what I was told. A sector of the Southern Grassland begins to unfold. My travel route to the desert beds are desolated. The fair sea of sands puke upon and my clothes and skin; the ever sea stretched for miles blown by the soft whimsical winds straightly from the Northern Grassland pinched between the two great lands. Tunes aloft with the sharf of air above the beds it laid seamlessly. Particles of glass shimmered and are detected in the materials and its viable frequency. It flew away by the breath of the sky, engulfed in a horizon of mists and low grade clumps of clouds that gives the great beast of the sand a fit, blowing the nostrils before confusion set, changing the hidden glass into liquid vapors of an unknown chemical process.
The sand whale was beneath me. It burrow its way to hide from the hot day. Goodness, it really does made no sense to the other world’s logic. I searched for what I can find to rest with but with no avail other than scrap of discarded shells; and parts of great woods receiving from what it look liked a shipwreck of some stored goods, scattered and covered many grounds till a cluster of a ship’s hood. Oh, in the land of the sand bandits and sand pirates seemly is reasonable to expect. The cautious state boils in.
“Um . . . Excuse I mister. Mister, mister traveler. Over hear I say.” a rugged voice of prince charming demanded, sounding like an Asian British man with an accent. I was alone. I must be dreaming of this nonsense. Surely am me, fully aware and overcome with exhaustion and started to hear spouting of some sort.
“Mister traveler, you’re directly looking at me.” said the voice once more. There was no one in sight. My hallucination was piling up the toll. And for once, I might have believe in the fantasy paranormal that it was an actual live ghost. But it did not excuse my dumbfound countenance to be met with a block of wood resembling a pillow. Clonk! Judgment administer right after turning away from it. I realize it was no human. It was not a beast that resides in the desert. Not even an elvfyn in distress.
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“Oh you oxymoron!” It corrected me and gave me not a laugh. A personified, short-end festival boat talking to yours truly in this mess. I must be going nutty from this anomaly. It was hard for me to express from the high strangeness after taking a block to the noggin.
“Good. Now that you realize that I exist. Will you please help me out good sir? I am stuck about a month’s worth of rations.” We converse for the moments. So I asked after our introduction how it was stuck in the first place giving it more than a nudge. Knowing it has some form of intelligence and too, being a magical boat itself, why not just magically lift itself. No pleasant memories was brought up other than a scorching anger ready to devour my half-cooked bacon of its predicament.
“That FEEBLE hand, BAKA John Titor! I’m going to kick him when he ever return back to me for help. How dare he let me to rot for eternity and excuse himself of high standards of living. I will shave his prized hair of his own katana, argghh!”
What a genius. But the boat has no arms and legs to do what it claimed. Out pop the magical boat’s head and along the sweaty rain condensed in tight spaces. A wallet fling out showing me of some interest that I would go and pick it up, curious of the claim this angry object bashing on about non-stop after its freedom.
There was a driver’s license from the United States of America intact that I took a look seeing the name, Precious Bunny Chastity Caddel. It was diffidently an isekai boy, a young man’s picture with a stripper’s name to boot. A legal name that may have been too embarrassed to be used even for the public eyes. I am quite sure it is him. John Titor must be his psuedo name. But to be sure, I show the picture of the boy to the dragon boat that it appears to be.
“That’s him alright. The stupid samurai. You know himmmm?” the dragon boat questioned me. It slid on the sand and closed our distant. I was not an alibi for the boy though it seems the boat wanted an excuse to vent off.