Replying to: 🎄🏳️‍⚧️René (F)🏳️‍⚧️🎄Sure

There was a guy – who’s name was Jack – on a pool floaty, which was a blue chair, with a high back and arm rests. He was stranded out in the middle of the ocean. The way he got there was completely a mystery to him, for all he remembered before he woke up was great pain in the back of his head. This led him to think he was knocked out by someone, and they somehow put him out here.
He’d already been out here for around an hour, and he’d found a bunch of useful things floating by. He attached two thin pieces of wood, about three feet wide and three feet long, to the sides of his chair with string he found before. This not only made the chair more stable, but it was a good way of storage for anything else he found. Ha even saw a red baseball cap floating about fifty yards from him.
He floated around, thinking about home, his brother, Mac, who was on the same ship as Jack was before he ended up where he is now. Mac was probably okay, though. He was a master at sword fighting. He would use the envirenment to his advantage. He would fling chairs at the opponent. He would hide behind trees and have the enemy’s weapon get stuck in it, and he would even run on walls for a second, getting away from the enemy whenever he was in a tight spot.
Jack didn’t deal with any of that stuff. He didn’t like any of that stuff. And Mac was okay with this, because he liked the feeling of having someone to protect. He said it made him feel ‘bigger’.
So Jack sat back in his comfy chair, breathing in the moist, salty air, and watched the water make small waves over and over again. He was happy – for the most part.
He did want to get back on solid ground. He wanted to be back at home; a nice, two story house with great big windows on either side of the double door front door. Jack had thought it would be cool to have one of those spinning doors that the shopping malls and big sky-scrapers have. His mother said it would let in bugs and tried to shove the idea out of his mind by taking him to go get ice-cream. But on the way he asked why she didn’t want one – this was when he was eleven, he’s sixteen now – and also, making sure he had this right in his head, said that it would be a good idea if they – assuming they had four glass walls in the turning door – kept two of them straight with the house’s walls on either side. His mother still said no, and told him if he said anything about the matter again she would take away his ice-cream.
At this moment he saw a piece of paper floating in front of him about five feet away. He fished it out with a stick he grabbed earlier and picked it up. It was strangely dry. It was only wet on the outside, and didn’t seem to have soaked any water into itself like water usually would. It felt like regular paper, other than the fact that water rested on its surface. He looked on one side.
Nothing.
He checked the other side, and saw something written in red ink, which looked like it was written five minutes ago, and wasn’t washed away or smudged by the water at all. It was a poem.
Jack had a feeling he shouldn’t have read what he was reading while he was reading it.

Secrets, secrets, they’re all over,
and ours have not one knower.
Treasuer’s, treasure’s what we’re after,
only man who knows is the crafter.

It holds powers men dream of,
evil men who have will love.
The destruction of the only one,
the one who can defeat the bad ‘uns.

Jack didn’t think it was well written. He checked the other side of the paper. He found it black, but when he was turning it over he saw something pop up on it. He flipped it back quickly, and on it, in the same red ink, “you’ve read the poem which guides those who wants the power to destroy the chosen one to the power to destroy the chosen one.” And the words faded away and a map grew in its place.
It had spiky balls, which Jack thought would be palm trees which grew on islands in the area; it had rocks and mountains and rivers and other things like animal symbol things. But the strangest thing af all to Jack is that it had two Xs. One had a meteor looking symbol on it, and the other was just a regular X.
Jack examined the map more closely. Its mountain areas were raised, and you could feel them on the map like on some globes. It also had a small green dot which pulsed brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker, brighter and darker. It was right next to the X with the meteor symbol next to it.
Jack looked around for anything out of the ordinary.
He looked to the left. Water.
He looked in front of him. Water.
He looked to the right. Water.
He turned around in his pool chair and looked behind him. Water.
He even stuck his head in the water. And what did he see? Fish.
He turned back around and sat back on his throne. He had to get off the water. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten sea-sick yet. He wanted to see his brother again. He wanted to see land.
He sat back with a heavy sigh, folding his arms behind his head, and was about to take a nap when he saw a massive ball of rock falling toward him.
‘That’s not what I meant when I thought I wanted to see land.’ He thought, and before he had time to even try to paddle out of the way – which wouldn’t help in the least – the ball smashed into the ocean. It missed Jack, but only by around twenty yards. The splash flung him and his chair into the air. Jack’s clothes were immediately soaked, his findings and his wooden planks were ripped from the chair, which had popped. Jack still had the map, and was doing everything he could to keep it in his hands. He was flying through the air on nothing. His chair and everything else was flung to who knows where.
Then he landed on sand. Or, more in sand. He was buried from his ankles to his knees, and when he fell back because of the remaining momentum, he had to take a whole five minutes to wedge himself out. Once he did get out, he looked around. He saw sand, trees, crabs, sand, the ocean, (like it could go anywhere) boar tracks, sand, and he looked up just in case. The sky stared back at him with the millions of stars hiding from him in the sun’s light. He turned and looked out into the sea. He wondered what exactly it was that almost killed him, and where it came from. But most of all, he wondered why it landed there. He was sure he saw or read something about a meteor. Or at least something that looked like a meteor. Then with a gasp, he opened the wet map quickly and looked at the Xs. There was the one that looked like an X, and the other one looked like an X with a meteor symbol next to it. Jack recalled seeing a pulsing dot next to the X, and now it was on one of the small islands around the X.
‘The dot must be me,’ He thought. He rolled up the map and put it into his back pocket, which had some water in it of course.
Then he turned around and walked inland. There were palm trees everywhere, and the only thing the ground consisted in was sand. Every once in a while a crab would scurry away from Jack. After exploring for around an hour and finding pretty much nothing, he laid down to rest. He was soon asleep in the warm sand.

Jack had been sleeping for around three hours when he was awaken by a humming sound. He sat up straight and looked around. The humming was getting closer, and it’s tune wasn’t the best. Jack stood up and quickly picked up a large, thick stick. He held it over his head ready to hit whatever was now making its way through the bushes.
For all Jack new it could have been a bear, but instead a little man came out, humming and skipping in Jacks direction. He wore a purple coat, and his undershirt was a bright red. He had green pants and blue shoes, and an amazingly ridiculous pink had with about twenty multi-colored feathers on top of his yellow hair. He was still skipping in Jack’s direction, and when he was about four feet away he stopped and, in a high voice, said “Oh hello! How did you get on this island?”
Just then one of his feathers came off and flew away in the breeze.
“You’re feather flew away,” said Jack, somewhat shyly.
“Oh well,” said the little man, “nothing new. I’ve already lost thirteen of ’em. It’s definitely the hattiest hat I’ve ever hatted before.”
“Are you okay?” asked Jack.
“Fine, just bein’ myself!” he turned around, “Hey Marco! I found another man over here!” Then out came another little man in the exact same get-up as the first, only his hat had a bunch of things like leaves, flowers, feathers, and even shiny rocks glued to it.
“Oh hello there, how did you- hey! Your feather’th flying away!”
“Yes, my feather’s flying away, we’ve been over this already.” he turned to Jack. “I’d like you to settle something me and my brother have had trouble agreeing upon for years.”
“What is it?” asked Jack, leaning against a palm tree in case he was in for something long.
“Well,” started the little man, “we have always argued bitterly on whose hat is hattier.” Jack looked from the little man’s pink hat with a bunch of feathers on it to Marco’s pink hat with a bunch of things he must have picked up from the ground.
“I do believe,” continued the little man, “that my hat out-hats Marco’s, because mine has more organization than Marco’s.”
“And jutht what maketh that thtatement correct, Timmoggen?” Asked Marco sassily, putting his hands on his hips.
“My feathers are coming out of the same spot and the colors are organized in a pattern, while yours – although it has more to it than mine – looks like the inside of a waste bucket.”
“I’ll thay mine hath more to it than yourth!” said Marco, “Yourth has to be the boringetht hat on thith planet!”
Jack remembered the red baseball hat he saw earlier.
“But mine looks like it belongs to an actual human being!” Said Timmmogen.
“And what are thaying mine lookth like?” asked Marco.
Jack didn’t hear the rest. He was running away from the two arguers and was now looking for something to eat. He didn’t have any intention to have Marco and Tommiggery find him, so he ran as far as the coconut in sight about three-hundred yards ahead was.
After making it 280 yards to the coconut, he slowed to a walk. He grabbed the coconut, and after checking to see if he was followed – which he wasn’t – he looked for a large rock. He put the coconut on the rock and and looked for another big rock, and after finding one started smashing the coconut. He broke it into two, drank the milk that had managed to stay in it, and took bites off the bright white meat.
He sat there, eating his coconut, and wondering what Tomeegodon and Marco were querling about now. But wouldn’t they notice he had left? They had to have noticed. They had to, but it didn’t seem they had left where they were, fighting about hats. They could be fighting about their pants!
Then he remembered Marco’s “acthect”. Jack said a bunch of words the way Marco talks. He thought he was stuck on this island with the weirdest duo the world has ever seen! All he wanted was peace and quiet to maybe build a little hut. He needed to build a firepit and get dead twigs and wood. He still didn’t know how cold it got at night. Maybe it would be below zeros, or maybe a cozy warmth (the “th” isn’t replacing in s) to have in place of a blanket. He started gathering twigs, and set them near a pile of rocks. He took these rocks and made a firepit about three feet wide and three layers of rocks high. He set the twigs into the firepit – or rather, dropped them in without much intention to make it in the pit – and looked for big blocks of wood.
Once he found some, he realized he didn’t have a way to start a fire. He really didn’t like the idea of spinning wood on more wood, and he didn’t have flint and steel. And despite the billion to one chances of finding what he was looking for looked for a box of matches. Even a single, used match would be enough to try.

It was about seven o’clock when the sun first began to set. It had raised 2 degrees since his fail to find a match, which was a good sign. Jack felt he wouldn’t need to get a source of warmth, (the sound of Marco saying “warms” in his accent filled Jack’s head). He thought he would be just fine without a fire or whatever. It’s just about time to make something to sleep on.
He looked around for some palm leaves, and after finding some put them into a pile.

He thought, looking down at his amazing work of art (a pile of leaves with a big clump of moss as a pillow) that this would be a very comfortable bed indeed. So he tried it out. He dropped rather hard onto his leaves and lay his head softly on the mossy pillow. It was for the most part comfortable. The edges of the leaves were a bit scratchy, and the pillow had a small rock here and there, but it would do; if it wasn’t cold, that is.
It was now dark, and the temperature had dropped an amazing amount. As he walk through the cold air, Jack could see his breath as his heavy breathing became heavier still. He looked up at the moon, how bright it was, how beautiful it was, how it resembled the overlook of a nice cup of hot tea.
He was looking back down when he spotted a small trail of smoke over the tops of the trees. He was still walking, forgetting his cold, his misery, his cold and miserable sadness, forgetting the fact that he had seen a tree in front of him and running right into it. This took him out of his trance, and after regaining his senses started running as fast as he could toward the trail of smoke.
It was about five minutes of running when, out of breath and coughing a little, made it to the house. It turned out to be a small cabin made of stacked up logs. It looked like a massive castle to Jack, made of gold with an amazing, filthy, wobbly wooden door.
He knocked on the door, waiting for a knight in shining armor to come pull him by the collar of his shirt and throw him into a dungeon.
The door opened, and the warm air flowed around Jack.
“Oh, hello again,” said a disturbingly familiar voice. Jack looked down, and there stood Timmogen, wearing exactly what he was earlier.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Jack, somewhat grumpily.
“What would you be doing out there when it’s cold?” Asked the shorty in the door.
“I didn’t make a shelter, and I saw smoke from your house so I came here.”
“Well, come in, come in! No need for you to be standing out in the cold!” and with that he pulled Jack inside. “Why wouldn’t you build a shelter?” asked Timmogen, pushing Jack into a couch and ruching to the other side of the room to get a blanket on the table.
The room was carpeted with a light red carpet, matching the wooded look and the fire in the fireplace. On the walls were various items on shelves such as books, some potted plants, a low shelf near the fireplace with a bowl of fruit and some boxed snacks. On the back of the front door was a little drawer hanging half open with one pair of shoes and a coat. On the opposite side of the room from the front door there was another door. The couch Jack was sitting in was on the left when you walk in and a door was on Jack’s right at the end of the couch.
“I didn’t know it be this cold,” answered Jack, pulling the blanket Timmogen threw on him tight around himself. “Where’s Marco?” asked Jack. His dizziness and funny thinking was gone now that he was warm… er.
“He’s out on his evening walk.” said Timmogen grumpily, grabbing another piece of wood from the pile to the left of the fireplace and throwing it in.
Jack leaned forward at this answer. “Why would he be out when it’s that cold. And it’s hardly even the evening anymore,” he said.
“I know, I know,” said Timmogen, shaking his head (which moved his hat to another part of his head) and dropping himself to Jacks right on the couch. “I’ve asked him about it, too. He just says he likes the cold.”
“I’m pretty sure I was near the brink of losing my mind out there because of the temperature!”
“And he’s usually out there for around an hour, walking.”
Jack sat back, resting his head on the top of the back pillows. Suddenly the door burst open, immediately grabbing the couch duo’s attention. Marco, shivering, arms crossed, Marco stumped through the door, and used his body to close the door.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying the cold,” said Jack sarcastically.
Marco jumped at the sound of the new voice, causing his hat to fall off. Some twigs and things from the hat broke off, too, and as Marco tried to turn around to see who the new voice belonged to slipped – his shoes had a bunch of ice and snow on the bottoms – and fell flat on his back!
“You don’t seem to be enjoying the cold,” Jack said again, and taking the blanket off set it neatly beside him.
“It’th THNOWING!” said Marco excitedly, pointed toward the window beside the front door. It was hard to see from where that were, so Timmogen and Jack got up to look. It was hard to see, the reflections on the window dimmen everything outside, but with what little Jack could gather was a dark night – obviously – with a heavy snow. It wasn’t windy at all, which made the snow seem peaceful.
Jack went back and sat down. “Why do you go out at this time?” he asked Marco.
Marco looked up quickly with a worried expression on his face. “Uh, well,” he began, “I uthualy like the cool night air, but uh, it’th colder than normal,”
“Huh…” Jack was eyeing Marco, his eyes just slits of white with black in the middle. Something was telling him Marco was hiding something.
“Anything else?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“N-no!” said Marco, shaking his head vigorously.
“Well, uh, did you ever give us your name?” asked Timmogen.
“It’s Jack,” answered Jack. Marco gasped loudly, then it seemed there was something in his throat. But Jack heard a gasp, it was one-hundred percent a gasp, and this only strengthened his belief that something was up.
“Well, Jack,” began Timmogen again. “There’s a little bit of tomato soup left from dinner, would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you,” answered Jack.

It was early in the morning. Jack sat outside the cabin containing the brothers. Jack thought about everything that had happened over the last few days. Excitement, wanting the day for the cruise more and more; the relief, the day of the cruise finally came; spending time with his brother, exploring the ship they’d be on for two weeks; nothing…; fear, the sudden wakening out in the middle of the ocean; calmness, resting on the pool chair, finding a number of useful things out on the sea; fear, again, as the ball of rock almost killed him; a feeling of oh come on, finding the brothers arguing about hats; then that feeling again as he found the amazing cabin where the brothers lived.
It has been… different to Jack. He was never alone at home. Not like this. Staying home when the family went shopping wasn’t the same as this. he wasn’t with weirdos fighting over the world’s best hat, there wasn’t a possible death situation hiding around the corner, not a strange map showing things a regular map wouldn’t.
A strange map!