Before you reach the end of this story, this young man will be dead. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but to be honest, if you’ve read a few of these island yarns already and are expecting pleasant to come out of this one, I’m not really sure what to tell you.
Man is a social being, even on a deserted island. To betray the trust of your fellow man in this life, then, is to betray the very foundation of society itself.
At times he seemed to him a perverse mirror, a reflection of all his evil deeds in life come back to haunt him, a promise that the worst of him would forever be by his side.
Of course, his abject misery could not be denied. The allure of a being who could solve all problems with just one glance, one admission of credo!, one whimper of supplication, was to be, in his position, a good one indeed. Perhaps too good.
I know if I had a bottle, pen and paper, if I had a chance to reach out to another soul, I would have used a little more common courtesy.
Life was a joy to him, swimming in such plenty as he was…