Castaway Writer, Part 2
The other side of the island
And so began the courtship of Matoskah and Penelope. After that first dinner they sat on the ledge watching the sunset and talking. She told him about how she used to live on a big sailboat until the big storm in which the sailboat was destroyed and everyone she lived with died. She was thankful for her writing but she missed human companionship. He told her about his life on the sea — but he didn’t mention anything about Daniella.
A few days later Matoskah was walking the beach looking for a good fishing spot when he spotted Penelope walking toward him. She was wearing her bikini. They kept walking toward each other until they were about ten paces apart. They stopped and stared into each other’s eyes.
Penelope then slowly took off her bikini. She was now completely naked save for her writer’s pod hanging by a strap from her shoulder. Smiling, she then seductively removed the pod and placed it on the sand.
He knew what that meant. He put his writer’s pod on the sand then took off all his clothes. Completely naked on the beach, they walked toward each other and fell into an embrace as they kissed like there was no tomorrow. It was not long before they were in the sand making love like horny sea creatures who had just washed ashore.
After the lovemaking and some rest Matoskah went fishing (naked) and quickly caught the dinner they would have together that evening. After dinner they were sipping wine on the ledge outside Penelope’s cave watching the sunset.
After lighting a cigar Matoskah asked a question, “I’ve noticed you walking the beach and picking up items that you put in a pouch. What is that all about?”
Penelope giggled, “I collect sea shells.”
“Seriously? Well, you certainly live in the right place for that.”
“Ya wanna see?”
“Sure.”
Penelope stood up and took his hand, leading him into her cave. They went into the very back of the cave to a room where all the walls and ceilings were covered with seashells. They seemed to be glued to the rock walls and ceiling of the room but they were not glued so that the pretty outside of the shell faced away from the rock. Instead, it was the pretty side of the shells that were glued to the walls with the openings of the sea shells facing outward away from the rock. On the soft sand of the cave floor was a blanket and a pillow.
“You know how you can pick up a seashell and hold the opening of it to your ear and you can hear the sea? Well, I sleep here and with thousands of seashells with their openings pointed at me while I sleep I can sleep to the sound of the sea. Be real quiet and listen. You can hear it.”
Matoskah stood motionless listening. It was faint despite the sheer number of seashells but he could in fact hear the sea, “Wow, that’s incredible. It must be fantastic to sleep in this room.”
“It is, especially for me having lived most of my life on the sea. It makes for very deep relaxing sleep. And you know what…?
“What?”
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to make love in this room.”
Writer’s pods were quickly on the floor as clothes were thrown off. Wine glasses were set down and Matoskah put out his cigar. They were quickly making love surrounded by thousands of sea shells serenading them with the soothing sounds of the sea.
The next day Matoskah retrieved his stuff from his cave and moved in with Penelope. Every day thereafter they made love on the beach during the day and in the sea shell room at night. They may have been castaways on a deserted island but they were essentially living in paradise.
They were deeply in love.
But then one morning everything changed. After a delicious breakfast burrito Matoskah went out to sit on the ledge outside of their cave. Opening up his writer’s pod, he began writing.
A few minutes later Penelope came out to the ledge and sat down on the opposite side of the cave opening from Matoskah. Opening her writer’s pod, she began writing.
They wrote in silence for half an hour when Penelope finally spoke up, “Matoskah?”
“Yes, my love.”
“I don’t have a calendar in my cave but we’ve been lovers now for over two lunar cycles. And in all that time we’ve never read each other’s writing. I’ll let you read my writer’s pod if you let me read yours.”
A very deep feeling of dread coursed through Matoskah’s body. He said nothing.
Penelope got up and walked over to Matoskah, handing him her opened writer’s pod. He reluctantly handed her his opened writer’s pod.
Penelope went back to her seat. In silence, the two of them read each other’s writing.
Matoskah was impressed by Penelope’s writing. It was very standard and formulaic but she managed to put a lot of feeling into her writing. It tugged at his heart.
Suddenly, Penelope slammed shut his writer’s pod and got up. Going over to Matoskah, she handed him his pod and took back hers, “That was just terrible! Don’t you know the rules of writing? It was awful, just awful! It was disgusting! I can’t live with someone who writes like that!” Pointing her finger at him, she screamed, “Get the hell out of my cave NOW!”
Sadly, Matoskah gathered his things from her cave and left. He went down to the beach and took one last look at his wrecked boat. It was of no use to him now.
So Matoskah began walking the beach. He walked and walked and walked, headed to see what was on the other side of the island.
When Matoskah got to the other side of the island he was very thirsty. When he heard the sound of trickling water he left the beach and climbed up a hill toward the sound.
Finding a spring, he slaked his thirst, filled his water bottle, and splashed water over his face. Standing, he turned around to face the sea and noticed a distant island with a large conical mountain on it. Turning around he decided to walk further up the hill to get a better view of this side of the island.
Reaching the top of the hill he saw below him a wide lush valley surrounded by hills. And in the middle of this valley was a small grouping of about twenty thatched huts. Next to this tiny village part of the forest had been cleared and was replaced with rows of crops. Deserted island, my ass, he thought to himself.
Then he heard the rustling of leaves and turned around to see two men just a few paces away. They were both pointing very sharp looking spears at him. He noticed that neither man had a writer’s pod slung from their shoulder. They were obviously of a different human species.
“What are you doing on our island?” asked one of the men as he took a step closer. (Thank goodness they spoke English.)
Matoskah raised his arms in surrender, “I am just a castaway. My boat was destroyed and I ended up on this island with no way to leave. I am just looking for food and shelter. I mean you no harm.”
The other man stepped closer, “We see that you are a writer human. Writer humans are not welcome on this island.”
Matoskah looked down at his writer’s pod then back at the two men, “Yes, I am a writer human. But I really mean you no harm. If I could come with you to your village I will work for you while I try to build a new boat and then I will leave.”
“Our people will never accept you as a writer human. You must discard that writing contraption.”
“But… but… okay.” He took off his writer’s pod and placed it behind a rock where it would be hidden by some ferns. He would have to come back for it later. “May I ask what kind of humans you are?”
“We are farmer humans. We will now take you down to our village and you may talk to our chief. He will decide what to do with you. Just don’t tell him you’re a writer human because he will have you killed if you do.”
Matoskah was led down a path into the valley. He could sense the men’s spears just behind him.
The talk with the chief in his hut went well. Matoskah came up with a great lie. He told the chief that he was a farmer human who had gotten lost as a child and had been wandering all his life. He longed to be reunited with other farmer humans and learn how to farm.
The chief allowed him to stay in the village but until he earned their trust he would have to sleep on the ground outside instead of in a hut. He would have to earn his keep by toiling in the fields under the hot sun as he learned how to farm.
The chief then asked him his name.
“I am Matoskah.”
“That does not sound like a farmer name.”
“I’m sorry. It’s the only name I’ve ever known.”
Just then a beautiful woman entered the hut.
The chief gestured toward her, “Matoskah, this is my daughter, Rebecca. Rebecca, this is a wayward wanderer named Matoskah.”
Looking into her deep green eyes, Matoskah was instantly in love.
Taking a drink from his water bottle, he settled into the space on the ground under some palm trees where he was told he could sleep. From there he could look out over the tiny village. All the huts were placed in a circle with a large open space in the middle of the circle of huts. In the middle of the open space was a large fire pit. A handful of women were cooking.
One of the women suddenly turned around and began walking toward Matoskah. It was Rebecca!
Arriving at the spot under the palm trees she handed him something wrapped in a banana leaf, “You must be hungry. Here.”
“Thank you so very much. What is it?” He opened up the leaf.
“It’s a chimichanga and those green things are peppers.”
Their eyes locked and they both smiled. Then Rebecca turned and walked back toward the fire pit. Halfway there, a man began walking toward her. He was one of the two men who had captured him on the hill. When they met they fell into each other’s arms and began kissing.
Matoskah’s heart dropped. Rebecca already had a mate. He was overcome with sadness.
Then he took a bite of chimichanga and a bite of pepper and he suddenly felt like he had just caught on fire.
To be continued… Read Part 3 (Conclusion) Here Part 1
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction.